


About Five Times The Distance

by KelpietheThundergod



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alexia - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety, Case Fic, Developing Relationship, Disabled Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Flashbacks and Nightmares, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Happy Ending, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, Neurogenic Stutter, Old Married Couple Bickering, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Castiel, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Season/Series 14 Spoilers, Touch-Starved Dean Winchester, as in: Michael has let Dean go and they have defeated him, brief non-graphic mention of self-harm in regards to Jack's past behavior, canon-level violence, developing intimacy, for all my smut repulsed friends or those just not interested in it:, hunter husbands, i've marked the beginning and end of the smut scene so you can easily skip it!, in regards to Dean and Cas, post michael!dean, though the angst is rather mild i'd say
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 09:07:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 46,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16762162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KelpietheThundergod/pseuds/KelpietheThundergod
Summary: It's been months since Michael unexpectedly let Dean go, but he's still dealing with the mental and physical repercussions, some of which have turned out to be permanent. He’s had to adjust how to deal with hunts and that he likely won’t ever be at 100% again. On the upside, he and Cas are close now in a way that he’d never dared hope for, have made it clear how they feel for each other. Dean's greedy for every bit of affection they share, helplessly wanting more but unsure if Cas wants the same. Dean’s family got him back and he's got them, but they’re all dealing with their own respective issues and hang-ups, and when they - Cas, Dean, Sam, Eileen, and Jack - embark on a case of missing homeless people in San Diego, it all comes bubbling to the surface.This case fic follows Dean and Cas as they develop their relationship and establish intimacy, and while there's angst, the story is focused on healing and closeness, and there's a happy ending.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> What a journey.
> 
> When I started this fic, I thought it would get no longer than maybe 29k. But after deleting ten pages and changing the direction I wanted to take the story, I was on fire. The words wouldn’t stop coming, and writing this fic made me incredibly happy. To all those who read it, I hope that reading it will feel like a comforting hug feels when you are a little bit sad, or like a warm blanket when the nights are cold. 
> 
> [Caro](http://carolinasacco.tumblr.com/), I know I’ve said it before but I need to say it again - you were the sweetest, most generous artist an author could wish to be paired with <3 Working with you was an absolute delight, and it still feels like a dream that you created six (!!!) absolutely beautiful art pieces for my story, each time with different color versions for me to choose from. Like I’ve told you before, it feels like you looked inside both my head and my heart, and drew the scenes not only exactly like I imagined them, but also made all the emotions I tried to convey in those scenes tangible in your art. You gave my story life in a way that it would not have without your input, and I can’t thank you enough for this gift. 
> 
> [Mallory](http://malallory.tumblr.com/), you were with me from day one, and I want to thank you for your invaluable help as my beta and cheerleader :) [Firefly124](http://firefly124.tumblr.com/) \- thank you so much for your additional help beta’ing and your enthusiasm for my story, it helped a lot with putting my mind at ease! [Pantydean](http://cryptomoon.tumblr.com/) \- I’m so endlessly grateful for all your help and reassurance when I came to you with questions in regards to ASL and Eileen, and my fear of not doing her justice. 
> 
> Last but not least, thank you Jojo and Muse for making the DCBB such a joy to participate in :)
> 
> A quick explanation for things mentioned in the tags: 
> 
> Neurogenic Stutter: a type of fluency disorder in which a person has difficulty in producing speech in a normal, smooth fashion. Symptoms include excessive levels of normal disfluencies or interruptions in the forward flow of speech, such as interjections and revisions; repetitions of phrases, words, and parts of words; cessation of speech during the production of a word without finishing the word. Neurogenic stuttering is often not alleviated by the same conditions that significantly lessen developmental stuttering (e.g. singing). It is not uncommon for individuals with neurogenic stuttering to experience several other types of communication impairments. It typically appears following some sort of injury or disease to the central nervous system i.e. the brain and spinal cord, including cortex, subcortex, cerebellar, and even the neural pathway regions
> 
> Alexia: inability to recognize or read written words or letters, typically as a result of brain damage
> 
> Like I mentioned in the tags, if you wish to skip the smut scene, the beginning and the end of it are marked by this: >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> so when you see it, keep scrolling until you see it again!

****

**About Five Times The Distance**

_then I knew_

_in the crystalline knowledge of you_

_drove me through the mountains_

_through the crystal like and clear water fountain_

_drove me like a magnet_

_to the sea_

Dean wakes slowly. Judging from the way he feels all groggy and his mouth tastes like unwashed cotton, he must have slept too long. Rolling over with a grunt, refusing to open his eyes, he fumbles a hand out of the sheets, reaching for—

He blearily blinks his eyes open.

The left side of his bed is empty.

Dean frowns, immediately feeling his mood sink.

He rubs a hand over his face and sighs, then sits up and throws the covers off, because where's the point in staying in bed and dozing when there's no Cas to snuggle up to and—and whatever.

He puts socks on, stomps his feet into his slippers, then opts for his gray hoodie instead of his robe because it's softer and warmer.

Whatever.

Shuffling over to the sink, he scrubs his hands and face clean, and refuses to look at his bedhead and likely disgruntled expression.

When he enters the kitchen, Dean's greeted by the sight of Cas and Sam at the table. There's a half-empty coffee mug dangerously perched by Sam's elbow, and he's got his laptop in front of him while Cas is dicking around on his phone.

Dean rolls his eyes and goes to get his own mug.

“Hey,” Sam greets him, only looking up briefly and then going right back to scrolling. If he's that engrossed, it's either a case or serial killer stats. Dean suppresses a shudder to avoid spilling coffee on the counter he scrubbed clean only yesterday.

“Good morning, Dean.”

This early, Cas's voice is rough, his hair's a mess even though he didn't even sleep, and he doesn't look up from his phone at all.

Dean scowls, and says nothing, and adds sugar and milk and a pinch of cinnamon to his coffee since no one is paying him enough attention to notice anyway. He could dance the hula for all the attention Cas is giving him.

It's not like Dean is asking Cas to—like, morning breath and all, and maybe it's important what he's doing on his phone, or maybe he just ain't in the mood.

Or maybe Dean did something?

He quickly goes over yesterday in his head while leaning against the counter sipping his coffee—they stocked up on groceries, drove back home, Dean cooked, took a shower before bed, then Cas came into his room and they talked a bit until Dean fell asleep.

Maybe it's something Dean said? But all they did was talk about Jack, because he's still struggling now that he's as good as human.

Or... Cas is simply not a stay-in-bed-and-cuddle, sleepy-morning-kisses kinda guy. The dude doesn't sleep; Dean should be content that Cas wastes a couple hours every night letting Dean fall asleep next to him and staying until he's really out for the count. Sometimes he even lets Dean falls asleep on his chest, and if Dean wakes up alone later, well, it's still more than he's ever had before. He shouldn't complain.

Dean slumps further against the counter, huddles into his hoodie and licks sugary coffee residue off of his lips.

If this is all he's going to get, then, well. It's cool. He's going to suck it up and be grateful.

“Hey, you e-e-eaten yet?”

Finally, that gets a reaction.

Sam lifts his head, looking hopeful. “Uh, no. You gonna make breakfast?”

Dean rolls his eyes and turns around to the stove.

Clearly, he is surrounded by lazy slobs.

>

Cooking and having something to do with his hands calms Dean down despite himself. Of course the giant slug Dean's making breakfast for lacks the decency to set the table, so Dean does that himself—joke's on Sam though, because he _will_ do the clean up for once, or so help him.

Dean sits down beside Cas, close enough their elbows are brushing. At one point, Cas stretches so that his arm is behind Dean, and Dean tries to play it cool because surely Cas is going to lay his arm around him now, all nice and heavy and warm, and—

And Cas puts both his elbows back on the table, attention again consumed by playing what looks like Words With Friends, probably with Claire.

The stab of irrational disappointment is so sharp, Dean's appetite decides to curl up in a corner and die. He shoves his barely touched plate away from himself and scrubs a hand over his face.

“Dean? Are you alright?”

Cas is looking at him with round, worried eyes. Dean is so startled, he doesn't answer, and the next thing he knows Cas has laid a flat palm on his forehead and is squinting at him.

“You feel a bit hot.”

Dean feels himself smile despite himself, warmth spreading in his chest where he felt cold before.

He's about to make a dumb joke when Sam groans and says, “Guys, we talked about this.”

Dean's smile falls away and he frowns at Sam, who frowns right back.

Cas takes his hand off Dean's head, and, _great_ , moment officially ruined.

“We d-d-d-didn't even d-do anyth-th-th-thing!”

Dean shares a look with Cas, who looks equally as confused.

Sam just keeps frowning and then steamrolls right over them, “I got a call earlier. Apparently over seventy people have gone missing in San Diego over the last three months or so, all of them homeless. No bodies, no demon activity. The woman who called me, Molly, used to be a hunter herself. When she got wind of our network, she reached out. Mom and Bobby are still busy with that vetala case, so. I say we go check this out.”

Dean's mood, if possible, sinks further. They just finished a salt and burn three days ago, and he'd been hoping for some more time to just, well, _nest_ , and hang out, especially now that the bunker is just theirs again and they don't have to worry about fucking Michael anymore. He sighs.

“F-f-fine. What about the k-kid, he up yet?” It's been a couple months since he lost his Grace, but Jack still has trouble sleeping. A lot of the time, he either sleeps like a drunk baby or not at all.

“Yeah, I talked with him already, think he's packing a bag now. Hey, are you really not gonna eat that?”

Dean shoves his plate over to Sam, who takes it and shovels Dean's eggs over onto his own plate. The fuck, why doesn't he just use Dean's?

Sam shoves Dean's empty plate back to him and digs in happily. Dean only barely stops himself from rolling his eyes, _again_ , and turns halfway around to Cas, “You c-c-comin' with?” He doesn't bother hiding the hope in his voice.

Cas finally sets his phone down. “Of course,” he says, sounding far too serious, but the affirmation still soothes Dean’s stupid separation anxiety.

Sam lets his fork clutter onto his plate and stands up, “Gonna go pack, meet you at the car.”

He's gone so fast Dean doesn't even have time to tell him to clean up after himself.

Dean stares at the two empty plates. Sam’s been tense and skittish and irritable lately. It doesn’t even help that Dean knows why, because he’s not sure how to fix it. If Sam was even honest about what’s wrong.

It's silent, and when Dean finally lifts his head, Cas is looking the way Sam left with a frown of annoyance.

“He's being rude. Why is he being rude? I didn't kiss you, I wasn't even going to.”

Dean rubs at his forehead and shrugs, suddenly feeling incredibly tired.

“I d-dunno... guess he n-needs m-more—more t-time, or w-w-w-whatever.” He gestures vaguely and Cas frowns.

“It's been a month. I don’t understand what it is he says he needs to get used to.”

Dean swallows, feeling guilty. If he'd managed to put his foot down...

“'M gonna t-talk with him ag-g-gain. Ok-k-kay? I promise.”

Cas's expression instantly softens, and he reaches over and puts a hand on Dean's back, and oh, _finally_. Even that simple touch feels so nice Dean is all but melting into it.

It would be even nicer if Cas would run his hand up and down, rub Dean's back a little, but he's going to take what he can get.

“It's not your fault, Dean,” Cas is saying.

Dean fiddles with the cuffs of his hoodie and tries to believe that.

“You're n-not mad?” He asks at length.

Cas smiles softly and shakes his head, but he also takes his hand off Dean's back, and Dean has to fight down the urge to grab it and put it back there.

“Of course not, Dean.”

Dean grimaces. He knows Cas means it, but it only serves to make him feel more guilty. He scowls at the table.

“Yeah, well, mayb-b-be you should be.”

Dean's about to get up and start with clean-up when Cas stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Dean.”

Dean sits back down, nervously meets Cas's eyes.

“I know you hate being at odds with Sam—”

Dean grimaces, because yeah, true, but still.

“Just remember that you did nothing wrong. Okay?”

That's not going to be easy, but... okay.

Dean swallows, and nods.

When he lifts his head, Cas is looking at him all soft; that certain blend of worry and admiration that makes Dean brave and shy at the same time. He licks his lips and then smirks at Cas, all lopsided and false bravado because his heart is stumbling all over the place.

“Sooo—you w-w-weren't goin' to k-kiss me, huh?”

Cas looks puzzled for a moment and then fond, huffing out an amused breath and shaking his head lightly at Dean's antics.

“Maybe I could be persuaded,” Cas says, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes, crows-feet deepening, a slow smile tugging at his mouth because he's caught on now to the game they're playing.

“Oh y-yeah?” Dean asks, leaning in, looking at Cas through hooded eyes, unable to keep from smiling.

“Yes,” Cas breathes against his mouth, voice raspy, and then he closes the last bit of distance between them, and, _oh_.

Cas's lips are a bit chapped, but his mouth is soft and warm. Dean sighs against his cheek, his eyes closing the rest of the way. Cas might not be the most experienced kisser, but he appears determined to learn as fast as possible. Dean is happy to let him ‘practice’, and even more happy with the fact that Cas has started to take control of their kisses more and more as he gains in confidence.

Like now: Cas coaxing Dean's mouth open, gentle but insistent, one of his hands cupping Dean's cheek while the other is lightly gripping the short strands of hair at the back of his head, keeping him in place.

It makes Dean feel warm all over.

Wanted.

Held.

Somehow, his hands have found their way to Cas's forearms. The solid strength there kicks his desire up a notch, and he has to pause their kiss to moan lowly against Cas's mouth.

He leans back in, and Cas—leans away.

Dean blinks his eyes open, already panicking, because _fuck_ , what did he do, was that too much?

Cas doesn't look mad or irritated though. More like a mix of exasperated and frustrated.

“Dean—we've got a case, you need to get ready.”

Dean shakes his head and leans back in, because nope, just no.

“D-d-don't c-c-care. More k-kissing.”

Instead of getting with the program, Cas sighs and gets up and starts collecting the plates. “Come on, I'll help you clean up.”

Dean grumbles under his breath and takes a moment to fight down his disappointment.

“Dean?”

He must have spaced out, because Cas is looking at him with the milk bottle in one hand and a frown on his face.

“Are you alright?”

Dean opens his mouth. Closes it again.

He doesn't want to say he is when he's not.

But how can he ask for more when Cas seems so content with what they have?

“It's, um.” Dean fidgets with his hands, then rises and walks halfway around the table to stand beside Cas. “Just s-s-sucks that we d-didn't get more together-r-r t-t-time, y'know.”

When he's scraped together the courage to meet Cas's eyes, Cas is looking at him all warm and maybe a little bit sad, and okay, Dean really wants close now. Wants to hug.

He broadcasts his movements, giving Cas plenty of time to back out, but Cas just puts the milk bottle down and steps right into the hug, drawing Dean close. Dean sighs and leans his head on Cas's shoulder, tucking his face into Cas's neck.

He wishes they had a stereo system in the kitchen, and a little bit of luck, because then some slow-dancing song would start playing just now, and they could sway a little, and maybe kiss a little, and—

Cas draws out of the hug, his hands caressing down Dean's back and one coming to rest on his side. That would be nice on its own, if less nice than the hugging, but Cas is squinting up at Dean with worry again.

“Is something the matter? You've seemed... out of sorts, lately. At first I thought it was just because of Sam, but now I'm not so sure anymore.”

Dean shifts his weight and stares at Cas's chest, trying to find the right words.

“For instance,” Cas adds, “You're not usually this... clingy.”

Dean grimaces and shifts to step out of Cas's hold.

“Dean, wait—”

Cas moves with him, and Dean stops and warily lifts his head.

“It doesn't bother me,” Cas is saying, peering earnestly into Dean's eyes. “But is it because—did you have another flashback last night while I wasn’t there?”

Dean shakes his head and attempts a smile. “Was just k-kinda l-l-lonely w-when I woke up.”

Cas looks perplexed. “Oh”, he says. “Jack was awake early and I wanted to check on him. He didn't feel like going back to sleep so I stayed with him.” Cas squints at him. “This is what upset you,” he says, uncertainly but too flatly for it to be a question.

Dean flounders.

“Well—y-yeah. No. I—”

“Dude, are you still not ready?!”

Sam is standing in the doorway to the kitchen, looking annoyed.

Dean scowls and steps away from Cas, fingers twitching with pent-up frustration.

“C-c-comin'.”

From his periphery, he can see Sam nodding and leaving. Dean's shoulders slump and he scrubs his hands over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Rain ch-check?” He asks Cas, voice subdued with exhaustion, and they haven't even left the bunker yet.

When he lets his hands sink, Cas mostly looks resigned.

“Okay, Dean.”

Dean grimaces, then manages a weak grin.

“Gonna go l-l-l-look if Sam used up a-a-a-all the hot water for his stupid hair. Good l-l-luck kiss?”

Cas huffs and rolls his eyes, but there's that smile tugging one corner of his mouth up.

“You will sulk if I don't kiss you, won't you?”

Dean is grinning genuinely now. “Yep. All-l-l the sulking. D-d-definitely.”

Cas shakes his head in exasperation, but his smile is betraying him. Dean gets all of five seconds to feel smug and then Cas's hand is at the back of his head and guiding him into a sweet if short kiss.

 _Too_ short.

Dean leans in for a second one, but Cas stops him with a hand to Dean's chest.

Dean pouts, and briefly contemplates complaining, but he knows Cas is right. He needs to get going.

He takes Cas's hand off his chest and briefly squeezes it. With his other hand, he motions to where Cas's phone is lying on the table, blinking with notifications.

“Say hi to our oth-ther troublem-m-maker for me, 'kay?”

Cas nods.

“I will.”

Dean sighs, and squeezes Cas's hand again, and then leaves to go enjoy their excellent water pressure for a precious five minutes.

>

Jack is napping in the back beside Cas, the radio is on low, Sam is reading, and Dean is driving.

Dean’s missed Baby like fuck during the time he was recovering, and being behind her wheel is usually where he feels the most at peace, but now he shifts in his seat in discomfort. His back is complaining about how tense he is and his stomach is grumbling about how little breakfast he fed it. Dean scowls at the road, and then at Sam. Sam is either oblivious or ignoring him, so Dean scowls at the road again. They need to talk, but it's not going to get resolved that easy, and if he starts now, it might mess up the case.

He sucks it up, and keeps his mouth shut. He _is_ going to splurge on their motel rooms once they're in San Diego though, even though Sam's going to complain. If Sam insists on keeping him from nice things like his memory foam, and falling asleep beside Cas on his memory foam, Dean at least wants a decent mattress and sheets without questionable stains.

And since he's also being kept from cooking something nice in his kitchen, that means burgers for him when they stop for lunch a couple hours later. Sam scrunches his nose and nags Dean about his cholesterol, but Dean tunes him out. The concept of comfort food appears to be entirely lost on Sam.

Dean would wonder where he went wrong raising him, except he knows exactly what went wrong in terms of food when they were kids.

Jack orders a stew that smells delicious, but he's poking at it more than eating it. Dean makes the effort of swallowing before opening his mouth, because it's at times difficult enough to understand him with his stutter as it is. “Hey, k-kid, you okay?”

Sam and Cas stop talking about ancient Sumerian hair products or whatever it was they were going on about that Dean was ignoring in favor of inhaling his food. Jack swallows, eyes fixed on his plate.

Sam turns in his seat, frowning down at Jack, who still isn't looking at any of them. “Jack?”

“It's alright, I'm just—” He sighs, and then abruptly shoves his plate over to Dean and gets out of the booth. “You can have it, I—I will wait outside.” Then he turns around and walks out.

Cas is getting up and Dean reaches out, presses him back into his seat with a hand to his chest. “Give him a m-m-moment.”

For a beat it looks like Cas is going to fight him, but then he deflates. Dean goes back to shoving chili fries into his mouth. When he looks out to the parking lot in search of the kid, he finds him leaning against Baby's side, head bowed.

“What the hell just happened?” Sam looks at Dean, then makes a face and looks at Cas for answers.

Cas is staring out into the parking lot.

“Cas?”

“I'm not sure, I... I need to talk to him.”

Dean gets up so Cas can get out if the booth. He kind of wants to lean in for a quick peck, but Cas has his business face on and Dean tastes like chili and grease, so Dean stomps on his neediness and just sits back down. It doesn't look like the kid's coming back anytime soon and Dean is done with his burger but still hungry, so he starts in on the stew. Sam shoots him a look but his phone vibrates before he can bitch at Dean. Dean watches Sam smile down at his phone as he types, and his suspicions are confirmed when Sam says, “It's Eileen. She's just wrapped up a hunt.”

“She in the area?”

“Dude, chew with your mouth closed. And I dunno, she didn't say.” Sam shrugs and puts his phone down like it's nothing.

Dean frowns. “Well, ask 'er. She could-d-d join us.” He shovels more stew into his mouth. Man, that stuff is good. Next time he’s making Cas read him the menu before ordering.

Sam looks at him like he just proposed they should go river dancing. “Why? There's four of us, I think that's more than enough for this case.” He chuckles a little like Dean is being really silly, but it doesn’t sound sincere.

“And?” Dean counters. He finally doesn't feel like he's starving anymore, but he's going to get the rest of the stew to go. It would be a damn shame to waste it. “Just means l-l-less w-work f-f-f-for all-l-l of us.” Dean rubs at his jaw, irritated with the way his fluency is going downhill. It’s been months but it’s still difficult to hear his words not come out right anymore. “A-a-and unless you b-b-been sneakin' out at night, you guys h-haven't seen each other in while. So w-what gives?”

Something closes off behind Sam's eyes and it makes alarm bells ring in Dean's head. “We're just friends, Dean.” He still sounds calm, but there's an undercurrent to his tone that lets Dean know he needs to back off, now.

“Alr-r-r-right, got it.” Dean turns in his seat and signals the waitress. Sam is putting his phone away, mouth set in a thin line.

>

Dean goes to hit the head and by the time he walks outside with his little take-out box of stew, everyone's already piled back into the Impala. Sam is sitting shotgun again, and Dean would think it's for Jack's benefit so he can be in the back with Cas, except Jack seems to have fallen asleep. Dean would really like to have Cas be in the front with him, so Cas could nag him about staying hydrated and they could argue some more about whether Cowboys vs Aliens is a _good_ bad movie or a _bad_ bad movie. 

But Dean’s too tired to argue, so he just gives Cas his take-out box for safe keeping, and then guides Baby back onto the road.

The kid looks like he's out for the count, head leaned against the window at an uncomfortable looking angle. Dean's starting to feel too warm anyway, so he shrugs out of his jacket, holds it out to Cas. “Stuff that und-d-der his head, ‘m g-g-getting a crick in my n-neck just from w-w-watching.”

Sam keeps fiddling with his phone; putting it away, pulling it back out again, then stuffing it almost angrily into his jacket. Dean leaves him be. When it looks like Sam is settling in for a nap himself, Dean switches the radio to a soft rock station. Zep's _The Rain Song_ comes on and Dean feels his cheeks heat.

He risks a glance into the rearview mirror only to see Cas already looking at him, his eyes all soft. Dean's blush instantly gets worse, which is just ridiculous. They're _together_ together now, and it's been what, two years since he gave Cas that tape? 

Dean risks another look, and while the adoration in Cas's eyes would make him shy away for sure if they were face to face, now Dean lets himself smile in return. Screw it, right? Sam and Jack are both asleep, and even if they weren't, they wouldn't know what this is about anyway.

Dean can't hold eye contact for too long, because there's, well, the road he's got to pay attention to. But their little private moment has given him a stupid little flutter in his chest, and something that was wound tight in there relaxes a little.

By the time they arrive in Fruita, Colorado, they've been on the road for nine hours. Eight is usually Dean's limit by now, even when they take lots of stops to stretch their legs. He's grumpy and his back hurts when he crawls out of the car in the parking lot of the H Motel just off Interstate 70. The kid had woken up a couple hours earlier but didn't seem in the mood for Cas and Sam's more or less gentle prodding, so Dean had put him to work looking for cheap motels with clean showers and nice beds.

They get two doubles, rooms 19 and 25, because there aren't any family rooms left. Dean's about to call dibs on bunking with Cas when he hesitates. While Sam is busy filling out their very much fake information, Dean walks over to where Jack is studying the pamphlets that are laid out next to the counter.

“Hey, who you w-w-wanna bunk w-with? You d-d-did all-l-l-l the w-w-work, you get to call-l-l dibs.”

Jack puts the pamphlet back down he'd been studying. Dean can't read what's it saying, but judging from the pictures it's some kind of dinosaur exhibition.

The kid looks up at Dean and hesitates for a moment before saying, “I... I'd like to share with Castiel, if that's alright.”

God fucking dammit.

Dean sighs internally, cursing the marshmallow he apparently has for a heart, but he smiles and claps Jack on the back gently.

“Yeah, 'c-c-course.”

>

The rooms are nice, much nicer than what they usually get for 70 dollars a night. Dean almost falls asleep in the shower, and then again when he makes the mistake of sitting down on the bed, but there's a nice little Mexican place right next door, and he's starving. He herds everyone in there, and while Jack ate the rest of the stew after he woke up in the car, the mother hen in Dean is only appeased when the kid gets a serving of nachos and starts wolfing them down in a manner eerily similar to Dean himself.

“How is it,” Cas laments as he watches them eat, “that every time _I_ form a close bond with a child, they adopt _Dean’s_ eating habits.”

Dean wants to object and say that at least Claire did not adopt anything from him, she and Dean just happen to share a love for ketchup and for eating pizza with their hands, but his mouth is too full.

Cas is sitting beside Dean, which is nice, and he nags Dean about slowing down, which is less nice, but it's still attention Dean's getting from him, and Dean is really pathetic for attention from Cas. Not pathetic enough to _intentionally_ swallow wrong and send himself coughing, but enough so that he savors the way Cas pats his back after he's done saying his I-told-you-so’s.

The moment they're back in their rooms, Dean peels out of his jeans and flannel and changes into sweats and a soft tee. Then he collapses on top of his bed with a groan. He drifts somewhere close to sleep while Sam putters around their room, doing fuck knows what. Dean would ask, but he's tired and not in the mood to get his head bitten off. Still, he cracks open an eye and makes a valid effort at kicking his brain into gear when Sam sits down on his bed across from Dean and says, in a really weird tone, “So uh, Eileen wants to help with the case. She should be in San Diego by the time we're there.”

Dean studies Sam for a moment. That tension from earlier is back in his jaw and he keeps fiddling with his phone. So, nervous, but also...angry? What the hell?

“Okay,” Dean says at length. “Th-that's great.”

Sam nods without looking at Dean, but the tension he's holding only seems to coil tighter. Dean sighs and moves to sit up against the headboard, arranging the pillows at his back.

“C'mon, out with it. What's w-w-wrong with her j-j-j-joinin' us?”

“I didn't say there was anything wrong with it.” Sam throws his phone on the bed beside him and starts digging through his bag in a way that tells Dean he isn't looking for anything except a way to end the conversation he started himself.

“Yeah, b-but you're not happy 'bout it. You two f-f-fight?”

Sam throws his bag to the side and stands up, only to hover like an angry giraffe. “No, and I told you we're just friends! Stop talking like we're a couple!”

Sam is definitely angry now, and apparently also on a roll, because Dean starts to say something placating when Sam cuts him off with, “And besides, shouldn't you worry more about your own relationship?”

Dean thinks he should maybe be offended, but he's mostly just confused at the sudden change of topic.

“The h-hell you talkin' ab-b-bout? Me 'n C-Cas are c-c-cool.”

Sam fixes Dean with a look like they're in court and Dean is a sworn witness that Sam is about to accuse of lying.

“Oh yeah? Then why aren't you sleeping together?”

Dean's about to counter that he let the kid choose who to bunk with when it clicks with him what Sam's actually getting at.

“D-d-did you just ask m-me why C-C-Cas and me aren't h-havin' _sex_ ? What th-the _fuck_ , d-dude?!”

Sam lifts his eyebrows like he didn't expect Dean to admit that so fast. “So you aren't,” he states, and Dean has to exert a lot of effort not to throw something at his brother's head because he's getting seriously pissed off.

“Okay, f-f-first of, n-n-none of your business. S-s-second of all, news f-f-flash, somet-t-times people l-l-like to take it s-s-slow.” Dean has to swallow and force in a deep breath, because now he's agitated on top of tired, and that means he’s a hair’s breadth away from blocking on every third word. Sam at the very least has the decency not to interrupt him while he struggles with his mouth. “Stop m-m-making th-this about m-me. We were just talking-g-g ab-bout _you_. So tell m-me what's w-w-wrong with y-you alread-d-dy!”

For a beat, it seems like Sam is the one who's going to throw something after all, he looks that angry. But then his expression shutters off, and he turns on his heel. “I need some air.” He grabs his key card and his phone and then marches out and slams the door behind him.

Dean stares at the closed door and then lets his head thud against the wall he's been sitting up against. Great. This is just... great.

He sits there for a while torn between being angry at and worried about Sam. His back starts to protest being upright in any way but Dean's feeling too lonely and upset to go to sleep right now. He takes his key card and his phone and pads across the hallway over to room 19, not even bothering to put on shoes, because fuck that noise.

Cas and Jack are playing Scrabble on one of the beds. Dean would ask where they got it from, except the motel probably provided it and also he doesn't care. Jack asks Dean to join, then looks absurdly guilty when he remembers why Dean can't. Dean just waves him off. He's tired and he wants to lie down, he just doesn't want to be alone.

Dean makes a show of complaining about his back and then stretching out on his belly to Cas's left. Cas, because he's a dumbass, doesn't get the hint. After several seconds of lying there while Cas ignores Dean's suffering and Dean in general, Dean finally has enough. He grabs Cas's left hand, puts it on his back, and then lies down again with his face turned away.

Cas doesn't move his hand away but he also doesn't move it at all. “Do you want something, Dean?” He asks, all quiet amusement. Dean can hear the kid try and fail to suppress a chuckle.

“B-b-b-backr-r-r-rub,” he mumbles into the comforter he's lying on, barely intelligible. “N-n-now.”

Cas sighs, because not only is he a dumbass he's also super dramatic, but he does start rubbing Dean's back so Dean instantly forgives him. Jesus, it's nice. Cas's hands are warm but not sweaty, and also they're so freaking _big_ , and strong. And also _finally_ touching Dean. It's a good thing Dean's wearing a tee and is also seriously tired, because otherwise he might just sport a chubby from this, and that would be really awkward with the kid in the room.

It's so nice that Dean must fall asleep at some point, because the next thing he's vaguely aware of is being lifted bridal style into someone's arms. And then his head is resting against Cas's chest, and Dean should really _really_ yell at him to put him the fuck down right now. But he doesn't. Cas is holding him so securely, and it's making Dean's chest do that fluttery thing again, so Dean keeps his eyes closed and lets it happen.

Sam must not be back yet, because Dean hears knocking and then the door being opened with the card, probably by Jack. And then Dean's being put down and tucked into bed, as much as Cas knows how to tuck someone in. Dean really wants a goodnight kiss, but before he can decide whether to blow his cover or not, Cas has already moved away.

The door clicks shut, and then Dean's alone in the dark room, and he really doesn't like it. He's going to have to suck it up though, so he rolls over, fumbles around for one of the extra pillows, draws it into his arms and curls up around it. Sometimes, when it gets so bad Dean thinks he's going to have a public meltdown if he's denied being close to someone for even another hour, he sneaks a hot water bottle into his room when it's time for bed. Having that warmth at his back helps him feel like there's somebody there, and it's the only way he can go to sleep at all.

He hasn't had to do that since him and Cas became, well, him and Cas, because Cas is there often enough when Dean falls asleep. Cas is worlds better than a hot water bottle. And Cas seems content with what they have, because he's not like Dean.

Dean, who hoards more food than he could ever eat, and all the soft bedding he can find. Who starts missing his home, his _nest,_ when they're away from the bunker for too long. Who used to sleep with anyone who would have him because take what you can get or get nothing was the motto he'd learned to live by.

Dean, who seems to _need_ more than anybody else, more than he can ask of anyone.

On his next inhale, Dean hears himself sniffle, and okay, that's... that's just dumb; he can't be lying here crying about this. That's a level of pathetic he's not ready for. It's all fine. Dean's family is close, and they're okay, they're safe. Well, Dean doesn't know where Sam is. But Sam is smart, and he's armed, and he can't be too far away. Probably just having a beer and bitching to people about his dumb older brother. He's okay. Everything's okay.

Dean repeats that mantra until he drifts off. He only wakes up briefly when Sam comes back, but knowing his little brother is close and safe makes it a lot easier to fall asleep again. Dean expects to be able to sleep till morning, but the next time he comes to he's sitting up, his tee is sticking to his back with sweat, his heart is racing, and he _can't breathe_.

“Dean! Dean, don't do this, c'mon!”

There's a hand touching his back and Dean shudders and jerks away. It's an incentive to open his eyes though, and then Sam's concerned face is swimming in his vision. And oh, Dean's close to hyperventilating. That's not good. He should stop that.

“That's it, deep breaths, you're doing great!”

Dean would make a quip about how Sam should change careers and become a birthing class instructor, but he's too busy forcing himself to calm the fuck down. His heart rate gradually goes back to normal but a pounding is starting in his temples that he's unfortunately very familiar with by now. Dean squeezes his eyes shut against it but doesn't manage to suppress a groan.

“You okay?”

He's not. He wants Cas.

Dean nods and forces himself to blink open his eyes. Sam gives him a smile but his expression stays concerned. He moves to clap Dean on the back, then aborts the movement, probably remembering how Dean sometimes doesn't like to be touched right after these particular nightmares. Sam of all people must understand the terror of having control over your body taken away, of being stuffed down and forced to watch, voiceless and helpless. Dean doesn’t think he will ever be able to fully forgive himself for failing to protect Sam from that.

The room is dark except for the bedside lamp Sam must have switched on when he woke up to Dean screaming. Well, Dean guesses he screamed, judging from the way his throat feels. Apparently it sounds even more disturbing with how his words shatter under distress now, so Dean is glad he rarely ever remembers that part.

Sam comes back from the bathroom with a glass of water. He hands it to Dean and then sits back down opposite him. Dean's hands aren't shaking so bad anymore and he drinks a few mouthfuls before he presses the glass to his temple and closes his eyes again. “Th-thanks. W-w-what t-t-t-time's it?”

“Four in the morning. And I was just dreaming about spending a nice day at a farmer's market, so thanks for that.” Dean head is starting to seriously hurt, but he's still hit by a rush of affection for his little brother, who's trying to soothe him with humor.

“Y-you're w-w-welc-c-come, d-d-dude.” Dean's voice sounds like he's munched on sand paper, but Sam still snorts in amusement. Dean takes the glass away from his head and puts it on the nightstand because it isn't even helping. He opens his eyes again and despite the gentle lighting, they immediately start to water.

They share a moment of companionable silence, and then Sam draws a breath like he's steeling himself and says, “Dean, listen... I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't—”

Dean holds up a hand. “C-c-can we t-t-talk ab-b-bout th-this when my b-b-brain's n-not t-t-tryin' to l-l-leak out through my ears? A-a-and th-this,” he gestures at his mouth, “isn’t a-a-acting up as m-m-much? Please.”

Sam makes a face. “That bad?”

Dean just nods and then winces, because even that little movement was too much. Fucking fantastic. He grins wryly. “L-l-looks l-l-like you're in l-l-luck and get to d-d-drive tomor-r-r—” He blocks on the last word, throat muscles spasming, and doesn't bother finishing it.

Sam regards him with sympathy. “Sure. Think you can go back to sleep?”

Dean wishes, but he knows how this goes. “Gonna take a sh-sh-shower.” And then he leans forward and draws Sam into a hug. Sam seems surprised for a second but then relaxes into it and, very carefully, puts his arms around Dean as well. Dean would bitch that he ain't fragile, but he doesn't have the energy. He couldn't even say if this hug is more for Sam's benefit or his own. Maybe it doesn't matter.

Dean holds on for another long moment, then claps Sam on the back. “G-g-get some m-m-more b-b-beauty ssssleep.” He winces internally at how bad he sounds right now, but it's worth it to see Sam shake his head and laugh in that my-brother-is-a-jerk-but-I-love-him-anyway kind of way that never fails to make Dean feel kind of proud of them.

The water pressure in the shower is the opposite of memorable, but Dean knew that already and it's enough to wash the sweat off his skin. It doesn't do much for the pain, but nothing really does. Which means Dean's in for a miserable six to twelve hours.

Sam's already snoring again when Dean sneaks back in. It helps his head a little to shut off the light, but that also means he's alone in the dark while in pain.

Dean knows that if he asked, Cas would come to him. But then what? Cas can't heal him. They've established months ago that the migraines are Dean's body and mind trying to heal themselves from the crap they'd been put through for six months. They happen less now, and they're not as bad as in the beginning, when he was having flashbacks all the fucking time. He's just got to knuckle through.

Dean manages to doze fitfully until Sam's alarm goes off at six in the morning. He winces at the shrill noise and Sam is quick to shut it off.

He hears Sam pad around the room but doesn't dare open his eyes. Even the little bit of light filtering through the thick curtains is too much.

“How you feeling?”

“Been b-b-b-better,” Dean rasps. He's leaning against the headboard again, because lying down completely flat makes the pounding in his temples worse.

“Think you can eat breakfast?”

Dean's hungry, but the pain is also starting to make him nauseous. And grumpy. He hates nothing more than to be kept from eating.

“Nah, I'll b-b-b-e f-f-f-fine. Just get me my s-s-sunglasses.”

Sam briefly ducks into the bathroom and then gets Dean's shades from the car. He presses them into Dean's hand, squeezes his shoulder, and then leaves to go eat bird food instead of the bacon the motel kitchen probably just finished preparing and that Dean's still bummed about missing out on. Dean mopes for a couple more minutes and then drags himself into the bathroom to take a piss and throw water on his face and shave off his stubble before it can start to itch and irritate him later.

His hair's a mess but he leaves it because by the time he's done with everything else his eyes are watering too bad to fuss with it anyway. It's a relief to shut off the light and go back to the room where the curtains are still keeping out the brunt of the sunlight. He's just finished putting on pants and a fresh tee when there's a knock on the door and a muffled, “Dean?”

Cas is frowning at him when he opens the door. “Sam told me what happened. How are you?”

Dean waves him in and quickly shuts the door again. He can barely open his eyes, but he can basically feel Cas looking him up and down, checking him over for injuries in a way that's probably mostly reflex by now. It still warms Dean a little inside. If Cas was protective before, it's got nothing on how he's been since Dean gave Michael his front door key.

Dean sighs and rubs at his temples. “Not g-g-great, b-b-but I'll man-n-nage. You?”

“Jack beat me at Scrabble last night,” Cas says, sounding proud.

Dean chuckles. “L-l-l-like it's hard-d-d,” he teases. “Your s-s-slang still sucks, d-d-dude.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “He didn't beat me with slang words, Dean.”

“Huh,” Dean says, swaying closer to Cas. “I’m g-g-gonna t-t-t-teach him some more anyw-w-way.”

Cas shakes his head in exasperation, but even in the dimness of the room Dean can see that he looks fond. Dean smiles at him, then winces when the pounding in his temples kicks up a notch. “Ugh, god d-d-d-dammit.” He sits back down at the edge of his bed, squeezing his eyes shut. The mattress dips when Cas sits down beside him. Cas puts a hand between Dean's shoulder blades, and Dean has to stomp down on the urge to curl up in Cas's arms and never leave again.

“Can I get you anything?”

Dean shakes his head. Painkillers don't do crap for this kind of thing. He tries to only take them when he really needs to anyway, because he's been skirting the edge of dependency for years now. What he really wants is some coffee, but he can't have any if he plans to try and sleep off the worst of this in the car.

Cas huffs in that way he does when something frustrates him and that Dean finds kind of stupidly endearing. It suddenly hits him that they're alone, no kids or annoying brothers in sight, and Cas is close, and his hand is still on Dean's back, warm and broad and heavy. He wouldn't have to slide it up far to like, pet Dean's hair, or cup his neck.

“Y'know, th-there's _something_ you c-c-could d-d-do.”

Dean tries to sound suggestive, but either he can't pull it off or Cas is just too damn oblivious, because he's just looking at Dean earnestly. 

“What?”

Dean grins even as he feels himself blush a little. “You c-c-could k-k-kiss it better.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “Dean,” he starts, in that tone that's a blend of frustration and exasperation, so Dean gives him his best pleading look. Cas squints at him, but then he moves his other hand to Dean's cheek, leans forward and—pecks Dean's temple. And then the fucker has the gall to smirk at Dean all smugly, while Dean pouts.

“N-n-not what I m-m-meant, and-d-d you know it,” he accuses.

“You asked me to kiss it better, and I did.”

“It still hu-hu-hu-hurts.” Dean complains, not even having to try very hard to sound as pathetic as possible. It _does_ still hurt, and it's bound to get worse, and anyway, is it too much to ask for a damn kiss on the mouth? “Really really b-b-b-bad.”

Cas hums in reply, making a show of contemplating what to do about it. And rationally Dean knows it's all in good fun, that Cas doesn't mean anything by it, except maybe he really does not want to kiss Dean right now, or be kissed. And Dean would respect that, but he can't help sounding a little hurt when he leans away and gripes, “F-f-fine, you don't w-w-wanna, I g-g-g-get it—”

He's about to get up and start the super fun task of packing his bag when Cas cups his cheek and presses their mouths together. This time when Dean's eyes close it's because of pleasure and relief, and he puts his hand over Cas's hand on his cheek. The angle isn't perfect so Dean tips his head a little more to the side, and then _oh_ , oh yes. He opens his mouth in invitation and Cas deepens the kiss, still a little clumsily but Dean doesn't need him to be an expert at this, he just needs _him_.

Dean tends to get a little lost in touch when it's offered to him, and he only becomes aware of the grip he has on Cas's thigh and the needy sounds he's making in the back of his throat when Cas breaks off the kiss and says Dean's name warningly. Dean's panting and a little dazed, but he stops touching Cas immediately. “S-s-sor-r-ry. G-g-g-got c-c-carried away.”

Cas just watches him, looking a little bit sad. And while Dean is glad that the pain he's in did at least keep him from getting hard, Cas doesn't look ruffled from their little make-out session at all. Doesn't look like he wants Dean the way Dean wants him. Dean swallows against the hurt and as if on cue, the pain in his head makes him squeeze his eyes shut and wince.

“You don't need to apologize,” Cas is saying. He gently touches Dean's forehead, rubs his thumb over Dean's temple. There's a heat behind Dean's eyes and he kind of wants to cry. “Is it getting worse?” Cas asks, and Dean nods mutely, keeps his eyes closed.

Cas gets up and moves away, and Dean's skin prickles and his heart lurches with separation anxiety, because that's how fucked up he is. It only marginally gets better when Cas comes back and puts a cool, wet washcloth on Dean's neck. Dean searches blindly for Cas's hand and then grips it tightly when he finds it, hoping that Cas will chalk up his touchy-feely-ness to him being in pain.

Cas lets him crush his hand, but he says, sounding worried, “Dean, if you're in this much pain...”

“C-C-Cas, c-c-can we—” Dean cuts himself off to clear his throat, struggling to keep his emotions from fucking up his already fucked up voice further. “When th-this sh-sh-shitshow is over,” he gestures at his head while still keeping his eyes closed, “a-a-a-and Sam isn't ab-b-bout to c-c-come b-b-b-bargin' into the room, c-c-can we talk?”

Cas is silent for so long that Dean finally risks opening his eyes. It hurts, and he has to blink away moisture to be able to see Cas at all. Cas is studying Dean, and he looks kind of alarmed, so Dean hastily adds, “It's n-n-n-nothing b-b-b-bad, okay? Quit l-l-looking at me like I'm ab-b-bout to b-b-break up with you, it's n-n-not that.”

Cas seems to relax while he mulls that over. “Is it about why you were upset yesterday?”

Dean sighs and looks down at their hands. “Y-yeah.”

“Alright.”

Cas still looks worried, so Dean nudges him a little with his shoulder. “Hey. We're g-g-good, 'kay?”

Dean has relaxed his grip a little and now squeezes Cas's hand in a way he hopes translates as reassuring. Cas exhales a breath and is even smiling a little now. “Okay.”

There's footsteps outside and then the door clicking open. Dean can see Sam's gaze dropping down to their hands as soon as he catches sight of them, but Sam only says, “Hey. You guys ready to go?”

“Yeah, g-g-g-gimme a sec.” Dean's about to get up when Cas puts a hand on his chest and pushes him back down on the bed again.

“Let me.” Cas heaves Dean's bag on the bed and then moves to get Dean’s toiletry kit from the bathroom. It's kind of nice being fussed over, but Dean needs a distraction from how it felt to have Cas's broad, strong hand on his chest, manhandling him. Dean watches with narrowed eyes as Cas folds up his sleeping clothes.

“D-d-don't mix the d-d-dirty stuff in with the c-c-clean,” he bickers.

“I know how to pack a bag, Dean.”

“Oh yeah? 'C-c-cause l-l-last time I had-d-d to do the _sniff_ t-t-test with everyth-th-thing after.”

“That's because you didn't listen to me when I told you what I put where.”

“I had a con-c-c-cussion!”

On the other bed, Sam is packing his own bag, except he's stopped to watch Dean and Cas like they're some sort of bizarre tennis match, his stupid eyebrows almost disappearing into his stupid hairline. He's not saying anything though, so Dean ignores him in favor of more complaining. Which he keeps up all the way to the car, where Jack is already sitting shotgun, rifling through a whole stack of pamphlets. He's been fascinated with them for a while now, actually taking them _home_ with him to build up a collection. Must be Sam's boring nerd influence.

The kid's been having a rough time though, and Dean's not a _complete_ asshole, so he doesn't complain about the pamphlets taking up too much space on Baby's dashboard. He's got lots of other things to complain about anyway. Like how it's too damn hot already, and too bright, and he can't get comfortable. He's still grumbling by the time Sam has guided Baby back onto the highway. He's also taken off his shoes, and his sunglasses, and he fusses and nudges until Cas sighs long-sufferingly and sits up against the opposite door so that Dean can lie between his legs and with his head on Cas's chest.

Dean settles himself in, arms around Cas's thick waist and cheek mashed against his shirt. Still grumbling under his breath, he tries to will himself to pass out to escape the pounding in his head.

Jack has turned around and is leaning over the front bench, watching them with open amusement. “You weren't kidding about him being a bear. A huggy bear!”

Cas puts a hand on Dean's back but instead of defending his honor he says, with a solemnity that's completely uncalled for, “It's his favorite sleeping position.”

Dean feels his face heat and hides further against Cas's chest, making a mental note to complain about Cas being a traitor later. Sam makes a choking noise from the front, and for a second Dean thinks maybe his brother's delicate sensibilities will come in handy this one time, but then Sam laughs, “I can believe that. He hugs pillows in his sleep.”

“Really?” Jack sounds delighted at that information. And okay, enough is enough. Dean briefly unwinds one of his arms to flip all of them off.

“I h-h-hate you g-g-guys.”

Sam and Jack laugh. Cas tucks Dean's arm back against him and says, like Dean is some petulant child, “Sleep, Dean.”

Dean grumbles some more but eventually falls into a light doze almost against his will, soothed by Baby's comforting rumble and the weight of Cas's hand on his back. The other three finally take pity on him, keeping the radio on low and their conversation quiet.

“Can we go to SeaWorld while we're there?” There’s the soft sound of pages turning, like Jack is reading one of his pamphlets.

“You want to go to SeaWorld?”

“I'd like to feed the sea lions. And try the... Electric Eel.”

“Try the _what_?”

Faint chuckling. “It's a roller coaster, Cas.”

“The tallest, fastest roller coaster of San Diego, with an upside down view of Mission Bay! It sounds like fun!”

“It sounds terrifying,” Cas says, his voice rumbling in his chest where Dean's ear is pressed against it. Jack and Sam argue something back, but Dean barely registers half of it, finally drifting off.

A sharp stab of pain through his head is what wakes him an indefinite amount of time later, abruptly, making his guts churn with nausea and his mouth flood with saliva. With a groan, Dean tries to move, but he's sluggish and disoriented. He clumsily pushes himself off of Cas's chest, not daring to open his eyes, it hurts that bad.

“Dean?”  
  
Cas's hand is on his shoulder, steadying him, and Dean swallows with difficulty.

“Stop the c-c-car. Stop the car, 'm g-g-gonna—”

The moment Baby jolts to a halt on the shoulder, Dean fumbles the door open on his side, leans out and pukes all over the gravel. Since his stomach is empty it's just water and bile, but the sharp, disgusting taste still makes him cough and splutter. Cas's hand is between his shoulder blades, rubbing gently, while he keeps Dean from tumbling out of the car with the other. Dean pants and dry heaves for another minute, but apparently he has nothing else to throw up. Someone presses a bottle of lukewarm water into his hand, and he uses it to rinse out his mouth. The nausea is still going strong, his head feels like it's splitting open, and he just wants to be unconscious, _now_.

He vaguely thinks the others are talking to him but it barely even registers. He lets himself fall back against Cas, pleading, “Kn-kn-knock me out. _Pl-l-lease_.”

Dean's been avoiding asking for this, trying to bear the pain for as long as he is able. The feeling of Grace flooding into him, taking away control, just brings back too many bad memories. But he's past his limit now.

Cas cups his cheek, and Dean gasps when he feels the touch of his Grace, barely keeping himself from flinching away. And then it's quiet, and dark. Everything falls away, and the pain goes with it.

>

For a little over a week after getting back, after being home again and alone in his body, Dean hadn’t been able to talk at all. Everything was overwhelming and exhausting, and he communicated in nods and headshakes when he was present enough to hear and understand what someone was asking him in the first place. A lot of those first few days back, he’d just drifted, losing track of hours and days, mind far away.

Then one day he’d been sitting in the kitchen, shivering despite his three blankets and oversized hoodie. Sam brought him hot chocolate, and Dean heard himself say, “Th-thanks, um, S-S-S-Sam-m-my.”

It was a good thing Sam had already put the mug down at that point, because he looked so startled he probably would have dropped it. Dean himself had been so taken aback at hearing his own voice, raspy and stuttery as it was, it took him a moment to realize Sam was hugging him, face pressed into Dean’s neck and wet with tears.

On automatic, Dean’s own arms came up to hug Sam back, asking, “W-w-what’s um, um-m-m, w-w-wrong-g-g?”

Then suddenly everybody was there, and Sammy was smiling so wide despite the teartracks on his cheeks. And they all acted like Dean was a toddler who just did the first steps thing, meanwhile Dean was still a little confused about everything and just wanted to drink his hot chocolate in peace.

They figured out fast that trying to get Dean to say more than the very basics of conversation, or get him to talk when he didn’t want to, only made him clam up and space out again. They seemed to think it was a big deal that Dean was talking, and Dean thought that his family overall looked much happier, but his fuzzy mind couldn’t quite puzzle that together with the fact that he was talking again. He didn’t worry about it much, too busy piling his bed with soft blankets and sleeping most of the day away in the nest he’d created for himself. There, he could rest and be safe and just drift uninterrupted in the quiet fog inside his head.

Of course, that couldn’t last. The more Dean’s mind and body recovered, the more it _rediscovered_ , too. With the relief and the joy of finally realizing that he was home had come the memories and the flashbacks. The migraines that came along with them left him in agony, and more than once Cas had to knock him out, Dean incapable of doing anything but puking and shaking so hard Sam was worried about seizures.

“It’s damage done by an Archangel’s Grace,” Cas would explain, his voice a blend of frustration and grief, “By trauma. I can’t heal that. It will heal by itself, with time, or it won’t.”

For a while then, nobody mentioned Dean’s stuttery speech, at least not where he could hear, though they did sometimes have to ask him to repeat himself. The flashbacks and nightmares finally let up, but his brain to mouth connection still wasn’t working right.

Then Sam mentioned that their Mom was worried because Dean wasn’t answering her text messages, and Dean plugged in his phone for the first time in forever, only to be faced with the fact that he had a dozen messages and couldn’t read any of them. He stared at the words that no longer made sense to him until his eyes watered, frozen in fear because if this was gone that meant more things could be gone and he just hadn’t noticed yet.

It had taken him a while, then, to find the courage to go and tell the others. Sam and Cas were in the library, and they stopped talking when Dean entered. Wordlessly, he’d handed Sam his phone. His speech still wasn’t improving, and it got worse when he was distressed, and he suddenly couldn’t bear to hear himself talk, to hear himself admit that he couldn’t do yet another very simple thing anymore.

Sam was understandably confused. “You want me to read these?”

Dean sat down between them at the head of the table, eyes low, hands fidgeting in his lap.

“Dean? What’s wrong?” Cas's voice was soft with concern and he reached for Dean, put a comforting hand on his arm. And for the past couple weeks, Dean had either been too spaced out or in too much pain to process much, and then he’d just been so grateful and relieved to be with his family again. Had told himself that the pain and the weakness he was dealing with were worth their victory over Lucifer, were deserved for what Michael was able to do because Dean gave him his Sword.

“Dean? Hey, whatever is wrong, you can tell us, okay? We’ll fix it.”

Dean had rubbed at his jaw and swallowed, shaking his head. In his mind, he could already see the frowns on Sam and Cas's faces as they struggled to understand what he was saying but tried, for his sake, to act like his voice was what it used to be instead of shattered and wrong. He could imagine the way their expressions would slip into disappointment after learning that there was yet another thing that would not be coming back. And he could feel already the pain of everyone inevitably turning away when they realized the changes were permanent, of them going on with their lives, Dean scrambling to keep up but ultimately left behind, alone, because he couldn’t be who they needed anymore.

He had cried a lot since getting back, either from relief or from pain, but nothing like he’d cried then, slumped forwards on his elbows with his hands pressed over his eyes, violent sobs shaking his whole frame, stealing his breath.

“Oh no,” Sam was saying, sounding heartbroken, “Dean—”

There were two sets of hands on him then, stroking his back, and soothing words meant to calm him down, but the tears were still dripping down his chin, relentless sobs making him gasp for air.

Sam stood up then, “I’ll go grab his blanket. And some juice,” and Dean had wanted to choke on his shame. But the weight and warmth of a blanket on his shoulders had been the only thing able to calm him down lately, making him feel anchored in his body and covered and sheltered.

Cas was still there, a hand on Dean’s trembling back, but Dean hadn’t been able to hear him over the static in his ears and the sounds of his own distress. Then, finally, the weight of his blanket had settled around him, and he could calm down, could breathe again.

When his tears stopped and he could take his hands away from his eyes, he was given tissues and orange juice. Sam was fiddling with Dean’s phone.

“All I’m seeing here are like, get well wishes. Is this, um. About Mom?” Sam sounded like he was treading carefully, worried about setting Dean off again. “I know it hurt you when she left again with Bobby. But you’ve got like six messages and a voice mail from her. She—”

Dean had quickly shaken his head. He pressed the glass with cool juice against his throbbing temple and closed his eyes, took a shuddering breath.

“I c-c-can’t—” He clammed up again, flinching away from the sound of his own voice. Cas squeezed his shoulder in silent encouragement.

“Just take a breath, Dean,” Sam was saying. “It gets better when you’re calm, c’mon.”

Dean had wanted to yell that no fucking deep breathing exercise would fix his broken mouth, that some things just plain do not get better, they get worse. But Sam didn’t deserve to take the brunt of Dean’s frustration, so he swallowed all of that back.

“I c-c-can’t. I t-t-t-tried b-but I c-c-can’t. R-r-r-read. It d-doesn’t w-w-work a-a-an-n-ny-m-more.”

“Oh.”

Sam and Cas exchanged a look.

“Dean, listen, this might be temporary. And even if it’s not, we can find a way to work around it. It’s—”

Dean shook his head, looking at Sam with watery eyes. “It’s _n-n-n-not_ . Tem-m-mpor-r-rary. I c-can f-f-f-feel it. L-l-l-like. In, um, ins-s-side. It w-w-won’t g-get b-back t-t-to how it, um, w-w-was bef-f-for-r-re. _He_ w-won’t b-be c-c-coming-g-g b-b-back.”

Sam and Cas were frowning at him, obviously struggling to understand his disrupted speech, and now they exchanged a look of pure confusion.

“He?” Sam had asked, starting to look alarmed but still mostly like he was at a complete loss. “Michael? Of course he’s not coming back! What does that—”

“No!” Dean closed his eyes. “Not h-h-him.” A fist clenched in his blanket, he’d swallowed, forced the words out past the spasms in his throat, past the debilitating fear. “The D-D-Dean y-you knew f-f-from _b-bef-f-fore_. He’s g-g-gone. A-a-a-and he’s n-not c-c-coming-g b-b-back.”

A tear trailed down his cheek. Dean angrily wiped it away. “You’re l-l-left w-with _th-th-this_ ,” he gestured at himself. “A-a-and I c-c-can’t. I c-c-can’t d-d-do w-w-what _he_ c-c-c—” He blocked hard on the last word and gave up.

“Dean…”

Dean shook his head. Sam sounded shocked, and Dean couldn’t take it. He put a hand over his eyes again, unable to look at either of them. His other hand was still gripping the blanket so tight it hurt, and then suddenly Cas's hand was covering his, holding on to him.

“Dean. When Michael took you...it left a _hole_ in the heart of our family.” Cas squeezed Dean’s fingers, voice wavering with emotion. “And that was not because Dean the hunter was gone, our leader and protector. It’s because _Dean_ was gone, our family, who we _love_.”

Dean sniffed and bit his lip hard enough to hurt.

Sam’s hand was on his back, rubbing.

“It doesn’t matter to us what you can and can’t do,” he said. “We’re still gonna want you here and we’re still going to be there. Okay?”

Dean just nodded, trying his damnedest to believe what his family was telling him. Sam had pulled him into another hug then, one that Dean could barely reciprocate, arms pressed against his sides. He had been getting hugged a lot lately, but the gentle touch still shook Dean to his core every time, not used to it anymore after months of complete isolation.

“You won’t be alone in dealing with this,” Sam had said. “Okay? That’s not happening. Not anymore.”

>

There's fingers carding through his hair. Dean's lying on something that's warm and a little bit wet. His head feels fuzzy and there's a dull ache behind his eyes.

“Dean?”

Dean wants to ask _what_ , but it comes out sounding more like “Bwahh?”

“We've arrived.”

The fingers stop carding through his hair, which Dean is not on board with. He frowns and blindly tries to find the hand and put it back there. Cas chuckles, and Dean finally realizes his face is smashed into Cas's chest and the reason that it's wet under his cheek is because he drooled all over Cas's shirt.

“You need to get up now.”

Dean moves his cheek away from the wet spot but refuses to open his eyes.

“D-d-d-don't wanna.”

Cas sounds amused. “I can see that.” A thumb rubs at the back of Dean's neck and Dean sighs. He just wants to go back to sleep, but now that he's more awake he’s becoming aware of how bad his mouth tastes, that he needs to take a piss, and that he's _starving_. Reluctantly, he pushes himself off of Cas's chest and rubs sleep out of his eyes with the backs of his hands. He squints outside, and it looks like a motel parking lot.

“Please t-t-tell me we ain't stayin' at a S-S-Super 8,” he pleads, grimacing.

“We're staying at the Kings Inn. It has a pool, and a hot tub. The reviews said the rooms are very clean and the beds comfortable. There's a Mexican restaurant and a diner called Waffle Spot on site.”

Dean gapes at him. “Seriousl-l-ly?!”

“The prices were surprisingly reasonable. Besides, I could persuade Sam that we would have to put up with your whining the entire time otherwise.”

Dean can't even be mad about that because it would have been a hundred percent true. And also, The Waffle Spot is the best place to get waffles in all of California, and what psycho doesn’t love waffles. Dean’s already looking forward to stuffing his face there first chance he gets.

Cas makes to add something, then suddenly falters. He looks almost nervous when he says, “I thought it would be a waste of money to get two beds since I don't sleep, so. Our room just has one, um, bed.” He looks up at Dean, and he's definitely nervous when he peers into his eyes. “I hope that's okay?”

Dean stares back, feeling the tips of his ears heat. It takes him a beat to realize he's supposed to answer. “What?” It comes out almost as a squeak. “I m-mean yeah. Why w-w-wouldn't it be?”

Cas swallows. “I... don't know.” 

“Right.”

Cas still has that deer caught in the headlights look about him, and judging from how hot his face feels, Dean isn't faring much better. Which is just ridiculous. How can they possibly be shy around each other? Cas sits in Dean's bed all the time when they watch movies or while Dean falls asleep beside him. And still, Dean's heart speeds up stupidly at the thought of sharing a room and a bed with Cas, like he's some virginal 18th century heroine in some hackneyed romance novel. It's more kinds of stupid than Dean can shake a stick at.

The sudden knock on the window startles both of them. Dean’s about to give whoever that is a piece of his mind when he realizes it’s Eileen, resulting in an awkward disentangling of limbs where Cas's knee comes dangerously close to taking out Dean’s fun zone. By the time they’ve finally made it out the backseat, Eileen looks like she’s struggling to hold back laughter.

Dean smiles at her and opens his arms wide for a hug that he then tries his best not to melt into too much. Eileen doesn’t seem to mind though. She squeezes him, and then Dean draws back.

“Hey,” he says, speaking slower than usual to reign in his stutter and doing his best to enunciate as carefully as possible. “Good to see you. How you b-been?” While Eileen is smiling back at him, Dean can’t help but notice how she looks kind of tense, and worn around the edges.

Eileen hugs Cas too before she starts to speak and sign. It makes Dean feel bad because everyone is so much better at signing than he is by now, even though Eileen has told him that she would never even think of being mad at him for not having the time or energy to study during his recovery. While she’s exceptionally good at lip-reading, it’s gotten a lot more difficult for her to understand Dean, so he’s mostly been relying on Cas signing what he says to make it easier for her.

“I’m okay. Just tired, it was a very long drive.”

Dean nods but regards her with worry. He doesn’t have time to think of a way to ask her if she’s really okay because then Sam and Jack are back.

Sam smiles at her and he signs while he greets her, and she does the same, but they don’t touch and there’s a carefully measured distance between the two of them. Dean frowns but doesn’t say anything, filing the information away for later.

Oblivious at the tension, Jack beams at her and signs something without speaking. She looks delighted, laughing and signing something back. Cas is smiling at their antics, but he glances at Dean when Dean shuffles, overcome by frustration again. Longing for comfort and understanding, Dean almost physically aches with how much he wants Cas to rub his back or take his hand. Then he realizes how ridiculous and needy he’s being and tries to squash those thoughts the best he can.

“Ok-k-kay,” he grouses, rolling his eyes. “Can we go inside alread-d-dy? I’m hungry.”


	2. Chapter 2

The only reason Dean doesn’t plomb down immediately on the king size bed in their room is that he really needs the bathroom first. Once he’s done he fumbles off his boots, makes a beeline for the bed, and lets himself fall on top of it with a groan.

There are lots of pillows, the covers aren’t scratchy, everything is soft and both looks _and_ smells clean and fresh. Dean spreads himself diagonally across the bed like a starfish and decides he’s never moving again ever.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Cas warns. “We need to go over the case now that Eileen is here.”

Dean grumbles unhappily but he does open his eyes. And then he almost swallows his tongue because Cas has taken off his coat and suit jacket and is in the middle of unbuttoning his shirt.

“Gah,” Dean says, brain to mouth filter completely shot. He swallows and tries to form actual words this time, “C-Cas. Um. What a-a-are you doing-g-g?”

Completely oblivious to Dean’s predicament, Cas takes his shirt the rest of the way off and then starts rummaging through his bag with a frown. “Changing my shirt,” he answers, absently. “It still smells like vomit.”

Oh yeah, right. Dean threw up and then drooled all over Cas. Dean winces, but is quickly distracted by the sight of, well. Cas's arms, for one thing. They’re so… huge. Like his hands, but... more. And then his chest. Cas is so _thick_ around the middle, but not too firm that it’d be uncomfortable resting against him, which Dean knows from experience is super nice because Cas is _so_ strong but also soft in all the right places, and he could pick Dean up or hold him down no problem and—and _oh_ , oh fuck, Dean needs to stop thinking about Cas's, well, _everything_ , right fucking now. Dean’s mouth is dry, his skin is tingling with the need to touch and be touched, and he’s definitely starting to plump up in his jeans.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Dean digs his nails into his palms and forces himself to think about upsetting things, like that spider that got into the shower room the other day. He’s so busy remembering the way Sam had mercilessly teased him after saving him from that disgusting thing—or saving the thing from Dean, because Dean was about to just shoot it, the tiles be damned—that he must miss Cas coming over because suddenly he’s right there, a hand on Dean’s shoulder, urgently saying Dean’s name.

“Dean? What’s wrong, are you in pain?” 

Dean can feel himself flush. “No,” he says, shifting on the bed, and okay, at least things have calmed down downstairs. “No, I was just thinking-g-g ab-bout, uh. Spiders.”

Cas's frown deepens. “Spiders,” he repeats. “You hate spiders.”

Clearing his throat and avoiding Cas's eyes, Dean tries to think of a way to explain this that won’t make him sound like a needy moron. He’s saved from having to come up with anything by a knock on the door.

“Guys? We got food.”

Dean shares a look with Cas, then calls, “Yeah, c-c-come in!”

Sam must have ordered take-out because he’s carrying several big plastic bags. Dean can smell pad thai and his mouth waters. Moments later a container is plopped into his lap and then he’s not interested in anything except getting the food inside him as fast as he can.

“Dean, slow down. You were just sick earlier, you’re going to upset your stomach.”

With his cheeks stuffed full, Dean can only glare at Cas, and then at Jack and Eileen when they snicker at their antics.

Jack points at his chin, grinning. “You have a little something there.”

Scowling, Dean brushes some rice off of his face.

A twinkle in her eyes, Eileen mimes spoon-feeding someone, suggesting, “Maybe Castiel should feed you.”

Sam makes a choking noise. Dean swallows and looks at Cas only to discover he’s already looking at him. Heat rushes to his face and then they both look away quickly.

Clearing his throat, Sam says, an edge to his voice, “Alright, can we actually discuss the case now?” Putting his container of steamed veggies or whatever to the side, he reaches for his tablet. Dean makes a mental note to try and get Sam to finish his dinner. When he’s stressed or otherwise upset, Sam often deliberately doesn’t eat—a never-ending source of worry for Dean.

“So, Molly, our contact, says about seventy people have disappeared over the last three months, all of them homeless,” Sam says, signing while he speaks. “ It’s been happening all over the city but only at night. Nothing left behind except the victims belongings, in some cases blood and signs of struggle, but even then so little that the local authorities aren’t taking it very seriously, they probably don’t care.”

Jack looks up from where he’s sitting cross-legged on one of the two recliners, frowning. “Why?”

Dean and Sam exchange a quick look. Sam sighs, then turns to Jack. “Some people—actually, a lot of people—think that the homeless don’t deserve help, that it’s their fault for ending up on the street, even when they just happened to get too sick for work or be fired suddenly because the company they worked for had to shut down.”

Jack looks horrified, and yeah, Dean can’t blame him. People suck.

For the next half an hour, he mostly lets the others talk theories while he keeps stuffing his face, though at a slower pace than before.

Sam thinks it might be another one of those every-part-of-the-buffalo kind of vampire nests that Donna and Jody discovered back in the day, which would explain both the quantity of people missing and the lack of bodies.

Cas brings up Nachzehrers but quickly dismisses the idea again since it doesn’t seem low profile enough for them. There’s been no sign of increased demon activity in the area so the others argue back and forth for a while about the possibility of djinn or witches until it’s determined that they don’t have enough to go on for a solid theory.

Since people are disappearing almost every night now, they’re going to have to hurry finding out what’s going on and will need to split up. Dean doesn’t like it, even though all the disappearances seem to have happened during nighttime so they should be reasonably safe during the day. And he’d feel better about it if everyone had their head in the game but Jack has gotten more and more quiet and is looking troubled again, Cas is watching the kid and Dean like a hawk, and Sam and Eileen made polite conversation all evening while avoiding anything personal. And Dean? Well he’s not at 100% these days, and—

“—it probably won’t help much but I still want to hit up the local police station, find out if they’re investigating at all. Jack can come with me, and—”

“Actually, I, um. I’d like to go with Dean. If that’s alright.”

Sam and Dean exchange a confused look. Jack is staring at his lap, mouth a thin line.

“Uh.” Dean looks at Cas, but he doesn’t seem to know what’s going on either. “Sure, kid. What will I b-be d-d-doing, anyw-w-way?” Dean can’t exactly do the FBI thing anymore, except as eyes and ears only while Sam or Cas do all the talking. Dean doesn’t miss talking to cops, most of them are fucking assholes, but he does miss the opportunity to wear his suits and play pretend. And then, he simply doesn’t do well with feeling useless.

“I thought you could go meet with Molly, “Sam says. “I’ve texted her your number already, and I’ll let her know Jack’s coming too. She’s a little, um, skittish. She lives on the streets herself, doesn’t trust easy. I think you could put her at ease.”

Dean’s good with that, because it means there’s only one person he’s going to have to talk to, and he’ll have Jack to take up the slack if his speech gets too bad. It’s fucking stupid how exhausting it is for him now to do something as simple as _talk_ , but it is what it is.

Cas and Eileen volunteer to divide the local shelters between them, and everyone piles out shortly after to catch some shut-eye. As soon as their door has closed with a click, Dean is about to sag against Cas and suggest an early night when Cas says, “I think I will go out for a while.”

Dean draws back, instantly awake again. “You what? W-w-why?”

Cas looks at him calmly. “I’m the only one who doesn’t have to sleep. And if whatever we are dealing with attacks at night, this an excellent opportunity to take a look around, maybe find out what it is.”

Dean opens his mouth, then closes it again. Cas is not wrong; this could save them a lot of time and work tomorrow, maybe even save somebody’s life. But, “A-a-a-and if that fucker at-t-tacks you with no b-b-b-back-up, what then?”

“I won’t engage whatever it is on my own. And I will call you immediately. I promise.”

Dean grimaces and shifts on the bed. Out in the field, promises like that don’t mean much. And if Cas witnesses someone being in danger, there’s no way he’s going to put himself first.

Suddenly, Cas's hand is covering Dean’s where he’d been absently plucking at the comforter. Cas squeezes Dean’s hand, and his voice has adopted that soft, hushed tone he uses when he wants to soothe Dean.

“If it causes you too much distress, I won’t go.”

Dean looks down at their hands and then searches Cas's eyes. He can read sincerity there, and worry. And love. _Love_ , for _Dean_.

Throat as tight as his chest, he leans forward, head canted slightly to the side. Waiting for permission, he stops short of actually meeting Cas mouth but then Cas meets him halfway and Dean lets himself fall into the kiss, closing his eyes. The kiss stays chaste, but sweet, and lasts for so long that Dean gets a little lost in it. Every time it’s about to peter out, one of them seems to lean in again. Dean’s brain is all fuzzy by the time he realizes he’s just nuzzling the side of Cas's face, and that, at some point, he’s turned his palm over so now their fingers are intertwined.

When he draws back, Cas is watching him, features softened by affection. Dean sighs.

“Be c-c-careful, okay?”

Cas squeezes Dean’s hand again. “Of course.” He moves to standing and Dean is ready to start moping because why wait with that until Cas is gone, and then Cas leans towards him once more and presses a kiss against his forehead.

“I’ll be back by morning.”

Then he straightens, lets go off Dean’s hand, and walks out the door

Dean sits on the bed for a moment longer, brain struggling to reboot after that unexpected kiss. When it finally does, he can feel heat rush to his face. Grumbling, he scoots off the bed and gets his stuff together for a quick shower before bed. The water pressure turns out to be quite nice, but difficult to focus on, what with the fuzzy feeling in his chest and the skin on his forehead still tingling.

The nice feelings fade away when he’s done brushing his teeth and walks back into the empty room. After shutting off the light, Dean tosses and turns for a while. It’s not that the bed isn’t comfortable, but that it lacks—well, it lacks Cas. Cas, and his stupid body heat and stupid solid weight and stupid beefy arms and stupid calming presence.

Dean finally rolls onto his back and glares at the ceiling. He checks his phone, then chucks it to the side with a sneer of disgust at himself. He’s being pathetic and needy and stupid. Cas has gotten a lot more careful with himself. He’s told Dean that he knows now he belongs to them, knows his own worth. And he also knows it would tear Dean to shreds if he lost him. Cas will be careful, and he’s going to be back before Dean knows it. Which would happen a hell of a lot faster if Dean would stop being stupid and go the fuck to sleep.

Punching his pillow, Dean shimmies down the bed and tries to find the most comfortable position to pass out in until Cas is back. After another ten minutes of trying and failing at that, he finally gives up and reaches for the throw pillows, building himself a little nest. He feels utterly ridiculous even thinking of it as that, but it’s not like anyone’s here to mock him for it. Yeah, that’s right—he’s alone, hating it, and therefore allowed to do whatever it takes to trick himself into thinking he’s not.

Dean lies down on his side with the two biggest pillows leaning against his back, and arranges the other two at his front, draping his arm over them. With his eyes closed and bracketed in from both sides, his heart rate finally goes down and the restless energy in his limbs settles.

He’s off to dreamland shortly after and everything is nice until he wakes with a gasp and a racing heart from a nightmare slash flashback of that moment when Michael dragged him under, taking over control until all Dean knew was the black water he was drowning in. Only half-awake, he reaches out for Cas, and when his hand meets only empty air, he clutches the pillow in front of him until he’s calmed enough to sleep again.

The next time Dean wakes is when the mattress dips beside him and there’s the sound of someone taking off a coat and shoes. It’s still dark in the room, and Dean is momentarily confused by that but all that really registers is that Cas is back. Dean immediately abandons his pillow nest in favor of curling himself around Cas where he sits, an arm around Cas's waist so that Cas knows not to even think about leaving the bed again.

Cas chuckles and puts a hand on top of Dean’s head, lightly petting his hair.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean grumbles something that’s not really meant to be intelligible and Cas laughs again.

“What t-t-time’s it?”

“A little past three.”

Dean shifts and squints up at Cas.

“Thought you wouldn’t b-be b-b-back ‘till morning. You f-f-find anyth-thing?”

Cas sighs and leans to the side as if moving to get up. Dean instinctively tightens his hold on him but Cas only switches on the lamp on the nightstand, making Dean blink against the sudden light.

“No. Just a few stray cats and people sleeping on the streets that I didn’t want to disturb or scare.” Cas's tone suggests what he thinks of anyone having to sleep outside and in fear for their safety with so many perfectly functioning houses standing empty, but Dean’s not awake enough to discuss humanity’s failings right now.

Slumping a little in Dean’s hold, Cas is saying, “Then I missed you, and I started feeling bad about leaving you.”

Dean swallows, needing a moment to digest that. “You were t-t-tryin’ to protect people, Cas. Th-that’s important. I c-c-can’t fault you for th-that.”

“It is important, that’s true,” Cas agrees. Then he looks down and doesn’t continue until Dean meets his eyes. “But what’s even more important to me is _you_ . The way it feels when I don’t know if you’re safe—if I can spare you that feeling, then I want to do that. I _ought_ to do that.” He pauses while Dean can do nothing but stare at him, heart in his throat. “I have left you behind enough. And I don’t want to dismiss your feelings about that anymore, or my own.”

Cas sounds composed, but his eyes are shining with emotion. Dean’s fingers clench in his shirt, and it takes him a moment until he can speak. Even then, his voice is shaky. “Thanks.” Dean curls himself tighter around him, closes his eyes against the heat that’s building behind them. “That, um. Th-that means a l-l-l-lot.”

They share a moment of silence, just soaking in each other’s presence. Cas's hand is in Dean’s hair again, petting it and making it really hard for Dean to stay awake.

“You should go back to sleep.”

Dean tightens his arms around him.

“Onl-l-ly if you st-t-tay in he-here.”

Cas moves likes he’s looking behind him and then chuckles.

“I take it the pillows did not provide adequate replacement?”

Dean pouts even while he scoots to the side so Cas can sit with his back against the headboard. “No,” he grouses, “And stop throwing-g-g b-b-big w-w-words around, ‘m too t-t-tired for th-that.”

Cas sighs and rolls his eyes but holds still while Dean settles against his chest and wiggles to get comfortable. Except he _can’t_ get comfortable.

“What is it now?”

Dean frowns and changes position again but just can’t ignore it.

“Gotta pee.”

There’s a thud as Cas lets his head fall back against the wall, most likely accompanied by yet another eyeroll, because Cas is dramatic like that.

“Then go. I won’t have you fidgeting against me all night.”

Dean scowls at the commanding tone and grumpily gets up and stomps into the bathroom. When he comes back, Cas is still where he left him, and though he seems exasperated at Dean’s—totally justified—grumpiness, he opens his arms and lets Dean settle against him again. Dean hugs his arms around Cas's waist and Cas reaches over and turns off the bedside lamp, enveloping them in darkness.

Cas puts his hands on Dean’s back and Dean lets himself melt into a puddle of goo against him. Under his ear, Cas's heart is beating slow and even, soothing Dean back into sleep.

>

It’s still early the next time Dean blinks awake, the sunlight filtering through the curtains hazy and soft. His head is still cushioned on Cas's chest, which hasn’t happened all that often before. Cas usually moves him during the night so he can watch Netflix or read a book while Dean snoozes. A lot of the time, he’s gone by morning.

Now, Cas's arms are resting on Dean’s back, shifting slightly like he’s typing or scrolling through something on his phone. Dean has vague memories of waking up scared from another nightmare last night, only awake long enough to say Cas's name in a panic and for Cas to shush him and adjust Dean in his arms, before he fell back asleep.

There’s drool under Dean’s cheek again but he doesn’t move, only closes his eyes again. Maybe that way, the moment won’t end. His brain isn’t really awake yet and it just feels so good being close to Cas and getting to be held like this.

“Dean?”

Goddammit.

“No,” Dean grouses, voice all raspy. “‘M sl-l-leepin’.”

Cas huffs out a breath of laughter, his chest moving with it.

“Of course,” he says, sounding fond and amused. “My mistake.”

Dean finally moves his cheek away from the wet spot then smashes it into Cas's chest again with a content sigh. Cas shifts like he’s putting away his phone and then a hand starts stroking Dean’s upper back between his shoulder blades, instantly turning him into goo again.

“Usually when you wake up you’re like an angry bear,” Cas says. “But right now you’re much more of a cat. A grumpy one.”

Dean grumbles. “‘M not.”

Cas huffs again. “I thought you were sleeping?”

“I am. ’M just sleep t-t-talking.”

“I see.” It sounds like Cas is smiling. Dean loves that sound. He tightens his arms around Cas, hugging him close.

Cas strokes his back for another couple minutes, but then his hand slows a stop. Dean’s about to make his displeasure with that known when Cas says, “I wish it could always be like this. I _hate_ that...that when you wake up in pain, you ask for me, but when I’m actually there, you flinch, because you didn’t expect me to be. I hate that you’ve learned to expect so little. And I hate that it’s partly my fault, by disappointing you again and again.”

Alarmed, Dean pushes himself up so he can sit and look at Cas. Cas seems calm when he meets Dean’s eyes, but he’s radiating misery. It’s giving Dean a bit of emotional whiplash how they could go from a peaceful moment to—what is this even?

“Cas, what—where d-did this just c-c-c-come from?”

For a second, it looks like Cas is going to answer him, but then a distraught look passes over his face and he turns his head away.

Frowning, Dean takes one of Cas's hands and squeezes. “Cas, c’mon. Don’t do th-that. T-t-talk to me.”

It takes another long moment, but finally, Cas sighs, and shifts to sit up straighter against the headboard. He doesn’t let go of Dean’s hand, though. Instead, he draws it into his lap and puts his other hand on top of his and Dean’s, protective.

“You’re unhappy,” he finally says, staring at a point a little above Dean’s shoulder. “I know you’ve been trying to hide it from me, but you are.” Dean wants to interrupt him but Cas is already talking again. “At first, I wanted to confront you about it, because we said no more secrets. But then I thought about it from your perspective, with our history in mind. And, Dean, I want you to know that even if it turns out that whatever is making you unhappy is something we disagree over, even if it’s something you need or want that I can’t give you—I’m not going to just leave.” He’s finally meeting Dean’s eyes, and Dean can’t do anything but stare back, breath caught in his throat.

“Even if whatever it is means we will end up fighting, I won’t just leave.” Cas falters, and looks down at their hands. “I just… I just needed you to know that. The idea that you would choose to be quietly unhappy because I could hold leaving you over your head is terrible and unacceptable.”

He finally falls quiet, his voice having gotten all brittle in the end in a way that immediately kicks Dean’s nurturing instincts into overdrive. Dean holds himself back though, needing a moment to chew on all of that before he answers. Cas doesn’t seem to mind. He’s looking off to the side, absently stroking his thumb over the back of Dean’s hand in way like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. It’s soothing, and suddenly Dean’s smiling, shaking his head and huffing out a breath of laughter.

Cas looks at him, obviously confused.

“You’re fixing it,” Dean says. “The thing th-that’s been ups-s-setting me? That I, um, need-d-d? You’re fixing it alread-d-dy.” He nods to their hands.

“I’m—” Cas looks down with a puzzled frown, but then it clicks. “You… need more affection?”

Dean shifts in place, embarrassed, but manages a quiet, “Yeah.”

Cas’s shoulders slump. “I’m sorry, Dean, I should have realized.” He sounds contrite, and Dean is quick to shake his head.

“Hold-d-d it right th-there. You couldn’t’ve known.”

Cas searches his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me? I’m not mad,” he adds when Dean grimaces, “It’s just… this is such a small thing. I don’t understand why you would think I would deny you something so simple.”

Shifting on the bed, Dean takes a moment to marshal his thoughts, sort through his feelings. Let down the protective walls. There’s a loose thread in the comforter and he starts fiddling with it with his free hand while he talks.

“If I l-l-let myself… I tend to get, y’know. C-c-c-clingy. I didn’t wanna fuck this,” he gestures between them, “up just ‘c-c-cause I want more th-than you’re comfortable w-w-w-with. I sh-should just b-be c-c-content. G-g-grateful.” Squeezing his eyes shut, he rubs his jaw. “A-a-a-a-and I know it’s d-d-dumb, b-but every t-t-time I think you’re g-gonna,” he gestures vaguely, “t-t-touch me, o-o-or k-kiss me, a-a-a-and then you d-d-don’t, it k-kinda hurts.” Making a fist with his free hand, Dean knocks it lightly against his chest to indicate where. His throat is getting tight, which is just so fucking pathetic.

“Feels l-l-like...l-l-like you don’t want me as b-bad as I w-w-want y-y-you.” There’s a headache pounding in his temples like his body wants him to cry but he isn’t letting it. Blinking his eyes rapidly, he tries to smile, but it comes out wobbly. “It’s stupid-d-d, I know.”

There’s a drawn-out moment of silence while Dean tries to get a grip on his meltdown. And then Cas squeezes Dean’s hand, asking, “Dean? Could you look at me?”

Eyes shut, Dean shakes his head. He can’t. Cas releases his hand and the sudden loss physically hurts until Cas's hands are suddenly on his face, gently moving him, and then Cas's forehead is resting against Dean’s. “It’s not stupid,” Cas says, quiet and intimate in the scant space between them. “Your feelings could never be stupid, and I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like they were. Okay?”

Dean sniffs and nods, but still keeps his eyes closed. It doesn’t seem to help much—when Cas strokes a thumb just under his eye, Dean can feel the wetness there.

“‘M sor-r-ry.”

“What for?”

“Not t-t-telling y-you.”

Dean doesn’t know when it happened, but his hands are now over Cas's hands on his face, keeping them from pulling away, even though Cas is making no move to do so. 

“There’s still a lot of trust we need to rebuild. I understand why you’d be wary about sharing this. But, Dean, _please_ —please don’t suffer in silence like this. It—you deserve to have your needs taken care of. They’re not a burden. Please try to believe that.”

Dean doesn’t know if he can do that, but “Yeah, ok-k-kay. I’ll t-t-try.”

“Alright,” Cas says, sounding relieved. “Thank you.”

Dean drifts for a little bit, forcing himself to concentrate on the feeling of Cas's hands on his face, on the soft puffs of breath hitting Dean’s mouth, instead of the shame and self-loathing that keep trying to bubble up. It’s okay; Cas understands, Cas doesn’t judge him, Cas is glad Dean told him. It’s okay. Dean’s allowed to feel this way, he didn’t do anything wrong. He’s not a burden. It’s _okay_. After repeating that mantra a couple times, he can breathe easier. Tension leaves him that he wasn’t even aware he was holding.

Cas must notice, because he draws back a little, asks, “Can you look at me now?”

It’s hard, but Dean manages. A part of him still expects to get yelled at or punched in the face when he leaves himself wide open and vulnerable like this.

Cas's eyes, when Dean meets them, are shining with emotion. It calms something in Dean to see that he’s not the only one deeply affected by this.

“It’s not that I don’t want you. It’s…” Cas takes his hands off Dean’s face but Dean doesn’t release his grip on them, needing them to stay connected in that way. To his relief, Cas doesn’t draw away, just grips him back. “Sometimes I find myself… at a loss. I don’t know how to express my affection for you, and when I do, I’m not very good at it, and that… that frustrates me.” Cas is the one avoiding eye-contact now, looking off to the side and frowning at the wall.

“And then… when I kiss you.” Cas closes his eyes, grip on Dean’s hands tightening. “The way it feels, it’s overwhelming. Addictive. It’s nothing I’ve ever felt before and I can’t get enough and sometimes. Sometimes that scares me.” He pauses. “I want you, Dean, I’m just… bad at it.”

Cas is looking downright guilty once he finishes and that just won’t do.

“Cas?” Dean ducks his head and only continues once Cas looks at him again. “Listen. That stuff you’re t-t-talking about? Nobody is b-b-born being good at th-that. And it a-a-ain’t about that anyway. Kissing, sex? It ain’t a perform-m-mance. It’s ab-bout bein’ close. F-f-f-eeling good. You d-don’t need to be a pro at it f-f-for that. _I_ d-d-don’t need you to be. I just w-w-want a little more of _y-you_.”

Cas is looking something between touched and embarrassed at same time, so Dean grins ruefully and adds, “Remem-m-m-ber our first k-kiss? I was so nerv-v-vous I alm-m-most missed your mouth.”

The reminder does its job and makes Cas huff in amusement, eyes crinkling at the corners and making Dean feel warm inside.

They share a moment of silence, and then Cas sighs. “You got a message from our contact, Molly; she’s asking you and Jack to meet her at a diner near the beach in an hour.” He tightens his hold on Dean’s hands. “I know you don’t need me there, I know we said we would split up to cover more ground, but I still don’t wish for us to be apart today.”

The confirmation that he’s not the only one wanting to stay close has Dean melt a little. But, “Hey, I get it. B-But actually I was g-gonna ask you if you could go with Eil-l-leen.” At Cas confused frown he adds, “She seems a little l-l-lonely. I think sh-she and Sam had a fight or s-s-something. I d-don’t want h-her to feel left out.”

Cas looks at him so fondly then it makes Dean blush and quickly change the subject. “How’s the kid d-doin’? You find out what’s b-b-been bugging him?”

“I’m not sure, but I think he’s still struggling with being mostly human now. I thought we’d gotten him to a point where he could not only accept it but also revel in it, but… well, sometimes there are setbacks.”

Dean tenses at that, worry growing. “You th-think he’s hurting-g-g himself ag-gain?”

To his relief, Cas is quick to shake his head. “No. If that were the case, I would have immediately let you know.”

“Hm.”

Dean wants to ask Cas's opinion on why the kid wants to go with Dean instead of him or Sam, but his stomach chooses that moment to grumble its displeasure at him.

“Looks like the big bad bear is in need of feeding again.”

Dean glowers at Cas, who is looking far too amused by the situation.

“Shut up. T-t-talking is exhausting-g-g, a-a-and you’re the one who started it, so it’s your f-f-fault I’m starving-g-g now.”

He’s busy struggling to get his blanket and pillow nest out of the way so he can get up without getting tangled and kissing the floor, but he can _hear_ Cas roll his eyes at Dean’s indignation.

“Of course, _Bear_.”

Dean freezes and turns big eyes on Cas.

“D-did... did you just g-give me a _pet n-n-name_?”

Cas shifts on the bed, avoiding Dean’s eyes. He looks like he’s as surprised as Dean is by what he just said.

“You don’t... like it?”

Dean wants to scoff and say no, but the fuzzy feeling in his chest disagrees.

“Just… d-d-don’t call me that when anyone could h-h-hear.”

“Right.”

They stare at each other for another drawn-out, awkward moment until Dean manages to break away, face on fire, and struggle out of the blanket tangled around his legs.

“I’m gonna j-just—” He points a thumb behind himself, only realizing after the fact that the bathroom is on the other side of the room. And the goddamn blanket won’t get out of the way fast enough.

“Of course.”

Thinking himself finally free of the fucking back-stabbing blanket, Dean gets up so he can at least make a graceful exit.

>

When they go down into the breakfast hall a few minutes later, they find Jack and Eileen already seated at a table. Jack is signing something animatedly, and both he and Eileen laugh. It’s a good sight, and Dean is smiling himself when he and Cas sit down opposite the two after Dean got himself some well earned coffee and a plate piled with scrambled eggs and bacon and syrup.

“Hey, guys. How’d you sleep?” Dean asks, again speaking slower and enunciating carefully.

“I’m so glad we got the last available rooms here,” Eileen is saying while she signs. “The beds are amazing. Much better than what I’m used to.”

Dean wants to say that there’s always a room for her at the bunker but he still doesn’t know what’s going on with her and Sam and doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable. He also doesn’t mention the fact that she doesn’t look like she slept well at all. But then again, do any of them ever?

“They are indeed very comfortable,” Cas is saying, hands signing along effortlessly. “I think the only reason Dean got up at all was because he was ‘starving’.” He even does the stupid air quotes.

Eileen and Jack snicker. Dean glares at them and then at Cas, though he can’t really be mad that Cas made them laugh, even if it’s at his expense.

“Stop mak-k-king fun of me just c-c-cause you d-don’t need to eat.”

“Dean, don’t talk with your mouth full.”

Dean stuffs his mouth fuller in retaliation.

“He’s like a hamster,” Eileen is saying with a grin, cupping her hands at the sides of her face to mime hamster pouches.

Cas nods sagely. “Hamsters are hard-wired to forage for food and hoard it. And also to nest-build. However, if given the wrong materials for that they can injure themselves severely. Dean got his foot caught in his blanket nest this morning and almost fell flat on his face.”

Eileen and Jack shake with laughter while Dean glares murder at Cas. Unfazed, Cas reaches out and wipes something off of Dean’s chin. “You had some syrup there.” It sends the other two into another round of laughter, which is completely excessive in Dean’s opinion.

He swallows his mouthful and grumbles. “You g-guys suck.” Then he demonstratively stuffs his face again.

It’s hard to keep being annoyed when Cas rests his hand on Dean’s back and lets it stay there, thumb rubbing slow circles. Dean’s very grateful in that moment that signing can be done with one hand, because the simple weight and warmth of Cas's touch sends an instant wave of comfort through him.

“I had a dog for a while that I’d named Hamster,” Eileen is saying. “He was a stray, and he’d put everything into his mouth and try to eat it. He wasn’t much help at hunts, but I still liked having him around.”

“Did a monster get him?” The kid asks, looking dismayed.

Eileen shakes her head. “He was just very old. I still miss him sometimes, but hunting isn’t safe for dogs. Too many ways they can get hurt.”

Jack nods. “I’d still like a pet. But not to take on cases, just for at home. A bunny, maybe. Or a cat.” He smiles, like the very idea excites him.

Eileen mirrors his expression. “I’d like that too. Bunnies are cute!”

Dean rolls his eyes at them, though privately, in his head, he agrees.

“Sam at the station alread-d-dy?”

“Yes! He wanted to get an early start! Oh, right, I’m supposed to give you these.” Jack reaches over and puts Baby keys down beside Dean’s plate.

“Would it be alright if I went with you?” Cas is asking Eileen. “It’s not because we think you can’t handle it. Dean is just worried and thinks you could use the company.”

“Hey!” Dean grouses.

“She deserves to know, Dean.”

“It’s alright, “ Eileen is saying. “I don’t mind.” She turns to Dean with a genuine, if sad, smile. “Thank you, Dean.”

Dean shrugs and hides behind his almost empty coffee mug, uncomfortable with the gratitude. He keeps his eyes and his focus on clearing his plate and lets the others keep up the conversation.

When they’re ready to go, Cas takes his hand off Dean’s back and turns to him. “I’ll see you later,” he says, something hesitant in his expression Dean can’t read.

“Sure. We c-c-can meet up for l-l-lunch somewhere.”

Cas nods, and then suddenly he’s leaning forward, pressing a quick peck to Dean’s mouth that’s pretty chaste but still leaves them both breathless and wide-eyed. They’ve never done this in public before. It’s a first, but Dean still feels a little ridiculous with how fast it’s got his heart pounding.

“Right. I’ll just—” Cas doesn’t seem to be faring much better. He gets up awkwardly and goes over to Eileen, who’s watching them with obvious amusement. The only one unfazed is Jack, who’s just beaming at Dean.

“Should we get going as well?”

Dean swallows and resist the urge to lick his lips. He checks the time, and yep, they should really get a move on if they want to be punctual, which they do. 

It’s still early, and he’s only in jeans and a tee, but it’s already too warm for his liking. The upside is he gets to drive Baby with the windows down. Jack sits shotgun, content to look outside and watch the streets pass by, and it’s still a little weird to be alone with him. The kid is much closer to Sam and Cas, but then again, he _has_ sought Dean out more since—well, since. Dean had assumed that Jack did it out of misplaced guilt, but this feels like it’s about something else. 

It doesn’t look like he’s ready to talk though, and the silence isn’t awkward, so Dean just drives and gives him space.

The diner Molly ask them to meet her in is in walking distance of the beach, crammed between a Subway and a dry cleaner’s. The windows are dusty, the red leather seats soft and worn with use, and there’s a jukebox installed in each booth. Dean immediately feels at ease.

There’s a handful of people inside, most of them hugging their coffees and barely glancing at the two of them. A tall black woman sits alone in a booth near the exit, and though she doesn’t look much older than Dean, there’s a tired wariness around her that Dean knows all too well. When she spots them, she waves them over.

Molly seems a little taken aback by Jack’s, well, Jack-ness, but then she takes it in stride, shaking both their hands and inviting them to sit opposite her. She’s got a half empty coffee mug in front of her. When the waitress comes over, Dean orders a coke, and Jack does the same.

“Okay, I’d l-l-like to make sure we got all the det-t-tails right,” Dean says once they’ve got their drinks and the waitress is out of hearing range again. “Can you tell us how this whole th-thing started?”

Molly shoots him a curious look when she hears him talk, but then seems to take that in stride too, for which Dean is grateful. Jack takes out his notepad and pen to take notes in Dean’s stead while she talks.

“There’s an underpass under Friar’s Road. We got a settlement there, and I’ve been living there on and off for ‘bout eight years. Folks come to us for help when cops make them take down their tents and they don’t know where to go. I know almost everybody there and they know me.” Molly

has a smoky, raspy voice. She seems calm and composed, but her fingers are nervously playing with a pack of salt, and Dean notes the minute trembling in them.

“Then ‘bout three months ago we started hearing about people just up and disappearing. First just every three to four days, now almost every night. People are freaking out. Most of ‘em can’t just leave town, though. We got lots of disabled folks on the street, mentally ill. They can’t just go somewhere else, they’re dependant on the services here, what little there are. And we’re a family—they leave, they’re alone again.”

Jack looks up from his notepad.

“You used to be a hunter yourself, right? Do you have any idea what is causing the disappearances?”

“Well, people think it’s another serial killer on the loose, but I don’t think so. For one, no bodies been found, _none_ . And then, we’ve been taking shifts keeping watch every night, and I know other places have started doing that too, but people keep disappearing and nobody’s seen a thing. No way a human could be that stealthy, ‘specially when carrying a body around. Hell, some people keeping _watch_ have disappeared. Barely any sign of struggle, nobody heard a peep.”

Jack nods, still writing. “What about cold spots? Strange smells?”

His head is still bowed over his notepad and he can’t see it, but Jack’s earnest inquiries have made a soft smile appear on Molly’s face, the first genuine one Dean’s seen on her.

“I checked for EMF, but, well… places we live, safe to say lots of people have died there. Then there’s the lack of bodies, never heard of a ghost doing that. Thought about demons next, though usually they don’t take care to hide the bodies either. Hid some devils traps all around our camp, put up sigils. Didn’t do any good. Friend of mine was gone the next day. I’d known her for five years.”

Eyes shining wetly, Molly rubs a hand over her mouth.

“We’re very sorry to hear that,” Jack is saying, genuine regret in his voice.

Molly just nods. “Afraid that’s all I can tell you. Like I said, nobody’s seen or heard _anything_. Everybody’s scared they or their friends are next. I’ve been trying to set up some kind of network, but it’s hard to keep track of people out there. Far as I know, we got 79 people missing in the last three and a half months, but I’m sure it’s more.”

“I take it the cops ain’t a-a-any help?”

Molly snorts. “They’re chalking it up to overdoses or gang violence. Now, I’m not saying that stuff ain’t happening out there. I’ve seen folks beat to death, set on fire, left to rot. I know the work of human monsters when I see it, and I’m telling you, this ain’t that.” Her shaking fingers almost rip the salt packet. She lets it fall, takes a deep breath.

Dean wants to reach out and put a comforting hand on her arm, but he’s pretty sure she wouldn’t be okay with that. “We’re gonna d-d-d-do everything we can to s-s-s-s-stop whatever is doing th-this,” he says, voice pitched low. “I promise.”

“I wished I could do more to help,” Molly is says, her voice heavy with regret. “But actual hunting… I can’t do that anymore.”

Jack puts his notepad away, steeples his fingers together on the table.

“You don’t need to answer, but… can I ask what happened?”

Dean shoots Jack a warning look, but the kid is too focused on Molly to notice.

“It’s alright, I can—I can talk about it, a little. ‘Bout nine years ago, when I still had my apartment, there was a break-in. Never even saw the intruder. Or I guess if I did, I can’t remember. He shot me in the head. Bullet’s still in there,” she says, tapping a finger against her temple. “Did some real damage. I can’t hunt anymore, can’t work. I lost my home. If I don’t get my meds every day, I’d die.”

She shrugs. “But It’s okay, I mean… I still got a job to do, and that’s protecting my friends out there. That keeps me going.”

They say goodbye shortly after that, promising to keep each other updated. Molly leaves them a list with everyone she knows is missing, though she warns them it probably won’t help much since most people on the street only go by their first names or their nicknames, if anyone knows their name at all.

Dean checks his phone while Jack’s in the bathroom. Sam has added photos to all of his contacts so Dean can see who is calling or messaging him. The text thread with a photo of Cas squinting into the camera is blinking with a notification for a new voice message. Dean fishes the headphones he keeps on himself all the time now out of his jeans and plucks them in his phone, then hits play.

Cas is saying that so far they’ve got nothing and that it will be a while yet until they’re done. It ends with him asking how their meeting went.

A small, incredibly stupid part of Dean is let down when the message doesn’t end with an _I miss you_ . What the fuck. They saw each other an hour ago. He can’t actually miss Cas already, or expect Cas to miss him. That’s dumb, it’s just… dumb. 

Dean taps the voice message icon.

“Hey, Cas. We’re done here alread-d-dy, not much to g-g-go on.” Dean looks around, but no one seems to be in immediate hearing range. “Think we can r-r-rule out ghosts and d-demons though. Anyway, gimme a call when you guys are d-d-done. Um, I, um, m-m-miss you.” Cheeks burning, Dean stares at his phone in horror. He can’t recall planning to say this but now he has and there’s no turning back. “Um, ‘kay, bye.”

Dean ends the message and chucks his phone to the side. Then he thinks better of it and shoves it into his pants pocket where he can’t see it anymore and have it remind him of his idiocy. The kid is coming back from the bathroom and Dean quickly drains his coke and throws a couple bills on the table. He gets up so quickly he almost stumbles, and Jack looks at him with a frown.

“Are you okay?”

Dean nods, despite how his face still feels too warm and the fact that he is, without a doubt, a clingy idiot. “What?” He tries to sound like he’s completely cool, but instead his voice comes out more like a squeak. “Me? Sure. C’mon, l-l-let’s get g-g-goin’.”

Despite his own words, they’ve barely stepped out the diner when Dean changes his mind. “You know what? The oth-thers are gonna be a wh-while. Let’s go hang-g-g-g out at th-the beach while we w-w-w-wait.”

Jack looks excited at the idea, but he’s quiet while they walk, a troubled frown on his face. It lifts only slightly when the water comes into view.

“This is nice.”

It’s overrun and there’s too much noise. But Dean didn’t expect much else, and besides, Sammy and Cas aren’t there, so this doesn’t count as his first ever visit to the beach. Not until he’s got sand between his toes anyway.

Still, it’s not that bad. The beach is wide and sandy, and reasonably clean. The waves aren’t too big. It’s decidedly too warm in the direct sunlight though, and Dean looks around until he spots a low wall that gets some shade from the palm trees behind it. He points Jack in its direction.

“Go sit over th-there, I’ll be right b-back.”

There’s a small store that sells cooled, freshly pressed juice, and Jack looks like he could use a pick-me-up. Besides, hydration is important, right? He gets two, and also a navy blue ballcap with some kind of writing in white at the front that Dean assumes reads Ocean Beach, since that’s where they are. Jack doesn’t seem to care for sunglasses much and if Dean has to keep watching him squint against the light he’s going to get a headache.

Jack is watching the waves when Dean gets back. After plopping down next to him, Dean unceremoniously puts the cap on the kid’s head and holds his juice out to him.

“What—oh!” Jack sets his juice down on the wall beside him to examine the hat. “ _Ocean Beach Surf & Skate _,” he reads. “I’d like to learn how to surf one day, it looks like fun.” He puts the cap down and picks up the juice, then turns to Dean with a smile. “Thank you!”

Dean can tell Jack’s gratitude is genuine, but he can also see the troubled waters underneath. But Dean hates it when people push him before he’s ready to talk, so he waits the kid out.

They watch the waves in silence for a while. Jack gets up from the wall once to bring a ball that had rolled over to them back to the two small kids that were playing with it. Their joy briefly brings the smile back to his face, but it quickly fades into sadness again.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Jack says, like they’ve been having a conversation the entire time. Maybe they have. “Most of the time, I cherish being mostly human now. Castiel helped me see it for the gift it is, experiencing the world like you are. And I can’t thank him enough for that. But I still feel… regret. Guilt.” Jacks looks down at his hands, resting palms up on his thighs.. “My powers… they did bad things. They let _me_ do bad things. Manipulate people. Kill them. But if I still had them, I could find and eliminate the monster that is threatening Molly’s family before anyone else gets hurt. I was supposed to do so much,” and there’s tears choking his voice now. “I was supposed to—to rid the world of this kind of pain and suffering, and now I can’t do it. I can’t do it.”

He pitches forward and pinches the bridge of his nose, tears running down his hand and dropping down onto the sand.

Dean sighs and reaches out to rub the kid’s back between his shoulder blades. He lets him cry it out, then ducks his head to try and catch Jack’s bloodshot eyes.

“Of course you c-can’t do it,” he says, softly and slowly. “Do you know why? Bec-c-cause it’s way too m-m-much for a single person to d-do. No matter h-how powerful. There’s some th-things no one can change. That’s why it’s so important to l-l-look for what you _can_ do. You know what you d-did today?”

Jack shakes his head.

“You l-l-listened to someone who rarely g-gets listened to. You m-m-made her _smile_. Th-that’s no small feat. You should b-be proud of yourself, kid-d.”

Jack stares at him, and the next thing Dean knows the kid is clinging to him, pressing his snotty face into Dean’s shoulder.

“Okay, al-l-lright.” Dean folds his arms around Jack, a little awkwardly. They’ve hugged like once before, and that was shortly after Dean got back and was still completely beside himself. Jack doesn’t seem to mind. He just holds on, crying into Dean’s tee. When he finally draws back, his face is all blotchy and wet. Dean casts around for something to clean up with, when suddenly the Mom of the two kids from earlier comes over to them, holding out a couple of tissues with a soft smile.

Dean takes them with a grateful nod. “Thanks.”

Jack wipes at his face with them. Picking up his abandoned juice, Dean nudges his shoulder with it.

“C’mon. Drink up while it’s still c-c-cool.”

While they talked, a couple of teenagers have set up a beach volleyball net and started playing. If Jack were a normal human kid, he’d be around their age. And what do you know, they’re short a player.

Dean nudges Jack’s shoulder again and points in their direction.

“You should-d-d join ‘em.”

Jack look at him in confusion.

“But… we’ve got a case.”

Dean shrugs.

“We got nothing to d-d-do b-but wait for the oth-thers right now. Might as well have some f-f-fun. Nothing w-w-wrong with th-that.”

Jack watches them play for a moment.

“I don’t know how to play this game. I’m going to be bad at it.”

“They’re not th-that great at it either. You d-d-don’t need to be good at something-g-g to have fun.”

Jack looks at him like that’s the deepest shit he’s ever heard. Dean rolls his eyes and claps him on the back. “C’mon, g-g-git. But take your sh-sh-shoes off f-f-first.”

Dean watches him approach the kids, silently hoping that they don’t turn out to be jerks. It’s embarrassing how much tension leaves him when they immediately flock to Jack, smiling and by the looks of it all talking over each other. At some point, Jack turns and points over at Dean. Dean smiles and waves awkwardly, feeling like a soccer mom.

The kids show Jack how to move his arms and where to stand and then they take up the game again. By the end of the day Jack’s going to have sore arms and sand in uncomfortable places, but he’s laughing, all sadness forgotten for the moment, so Dean thinks it’s going to be worth it.

For the next half an hour, he just sits and watches the waves. It’s so soothing that he startles when his phone vibrates in his pocket with an incoming call. It’s Cas, and Dean quickly swipes to accept the call.

“Hey.”

“ _Hello, Dean_.”

The familiar phrase makes Dean smile and feel warm inside.

“You guys d-d-done?”

A sigh crackles through the line. “ _I think so, yes_.” Cas sounds weary, and kind of down.

Dean frowns, instantly worried. “You okay?”

“ _Yes. No. I don’t know_.”

Dean hums. “No th-then.” His focus is briefly drawn away by the sound of laughter. The kids had taken a short break to cool down in the ocean but now have taken up the game again. “Well, we’re still down a-a-at Ocean Beach. You guys should c-c-c-come too. I’ve got a f-f-feeling it’s gonna make you feel b-b-better.”

“ _How_?” Cas sounds suspicious.

“It’s a surp-p-prise,” Dean answers, grinning.

Cas huffs into the phone, and Dean is pretty sure Cas is rolling his eyes at him.

“ _Fine. Where are you_?”

Dean gives Cas directions and then they hang up. About fifteen minutes later, Eileen and Cas arrive, both looking worse for wear. Eileen is wearing a suit but has taken her jacket off and is using a pamphlet to fan herself. Dean scoots to the right so she can sit where there’s more shade. His instinct is to get her something to drink, but she’s already taken care of that herself, fishing a bottle of cooled water out of the little plastic bag she’s carrying and pressing it against her temple.

 _“_ You okay?” Dean signs, one of the only things he knows how to sign.

Eileen smiles at him, weary but genuine, but then grimaces. “Heat is not my friend,” she says and signs, then presses the bottle against her neck and picks up the pamphlet again. Even her signing looks weary, her facial expressions a lot less animated than usual.

Cas puts a hand on Dean’s back, standing beside him but not sitting down. He’s still got that frown on his face that Dean could already hear over the phone.

“Where’s Jack?”

Dean leans into the contact gratefully, then points over at where the kid is still so engrossed in the very game he had been so sure he’d be bad at, he hasn’t even noticed the others arrive. It looks like Jack just landed a point for his team. The others high five him and he laughs, a bright smile on his face.

“I…” Cas doesn’t seem to know how to react for a moment. “How did that happen?”

Dean shrugs.

“Kid just n-n-needed a nudge in the r-r-right direction.”

Cas watches Jack play and finally something in his stance relaxes. He smiles. 

“Was this the surprise?”

“Yeah,” Dean answers, absently. Eileen seems to have grown tired of fanning herself, so Dean picks up the pamphlet and takes over for her. She shoots him a grateful look, but all Dean can think of is that it should be Sam doing this.

Stupid fucking flashbacks-induced migraine. If that hadn’t happened, he’d already know what’s going on. Could have talked to Sam. Could have helped fix it.

“Dean? Dean!”

“Huh?”

Cas is looking down at him with a frown, then makes sure he’s got Eileen’s attention as well.

“I think we should head back to the motel soon, get something to eat and compare what we’ve found out.”

“Good idea. I want out of this suit.” Eileen grimaces and picks at her blouse with a frown.

“Sure. You go grab the k-k-kid, I’m gonna get r-r-rid of th-this.” Dean holds up the empty juice cups, then stands to bring them to the trash.

When he comes back, Jack is waving goodbye to the others. Everyone waves back. He’s sweaty and flushed and gross, but looks elated, his head high and his eyes bright.

“That was so much fun!” he says, brushing sand off his legs. Cas looks like he’s about to combust with pride, but Dean is distracted by just how much sand is on the kid.

“You are not gettin’ in B-B-Baby l-l-like th-that. You’re with Eil-l-leen.”

Beside him, Cas rolls his eyes even while he signs to Eileen what Dean said. “You get blood and who knows what else all over your car every other day but now you draw the line at a little sand.”

“You’re not th-the one spend-d-ding hours c-c-cleaning her up ag-g-gain aft-t-ter.”

Jack doesn’t seem to mind, beaming, “Fine with me.”

“I don’t care as long as we get out of the sun,” Eileen says, shrugging and gesturing at herself. “I want a shower.”

Cas walks with Jack on the way back to their cars, listening while the kid talks animatedly about volleyball and the new friends he’s made. Eileen is quiet and doesn’t seem to be in the mood to talk—not that Dean can really talk to her without Cas’s or Sam’s help anymore—so Dean leaves her be. He spaces out for a while, the heat and the abundance of people getting to him too, until they’re at Eileen’s car and Jack tells Cas, “Oh, I didn’t know what else to say, so I said Dean’s my dad’s husband. I hope that was okay? I can say something else the next time if you’d prefer a different term.”

Dean’s head jerks up. His and Cas's eyes meet. Cas looks like a deer caught in the headlights, and Dean’s pretty sure his face is so red it can be seen from space.

“I… don’t know.” Cas says, still staring at Dean. “Maybe—”

“It’s f-f-fine,” Dean blurts out. “It’s. Yeah.” He clears his throat and chances a look around. Jack looks earnest as always and like he doesn’t get what’s so embarrassing. Eileen is squinting at them, but then Jack signs something to her and the confusion clears from her face and is replaced by amusement. Okay, time to make a graceful exit.

Dean claps Cas on the shoulder, “C’mon buddy, l-l-let’s go.” And then he trips over his feet in his haste to get away and the only reason he doesn’t fall flat on his face is that Cas is quick enough to steady him. He doesn’t turn around to check if anyone saw that, just makes a beeline toward where he’d parked Baby.

Kids are the worst. Dean stomps the rest of the way to the car, scowling at everyone and everything in an attempt to regain at least a little bit of dignity. All the while, his traitor brain whispers to him that, seriously, what could Jack have said that would have been better? Best friend wouldn’t have been a lie exactly, but that’s not all they are anymore. Boyfriend is something for teenagers and the mere idea of calling Cas that makes Dean cringe. Partner is close, but it sounds too casual. Lots of people are partners in some way and don’t kiss. Significant other sounds clinical and stupid.

But he and Cas aren’t married. Okay, maybe a little bit. But not officially. That’d be dumb anyway. What would they need to get officially married for? And what does is matter anyway what anyone calls them? It’s dumb to fret about this. Dean’s being dumb, again, and he’s going to stop it, right now.

“Dean!”

“Huh? What?”

“Where are you going?”

Dean turns around to see Cas standing beside Baby. Dean had just walked past her, like she wasn’t even there. He instantly feels bad.

“Uh. Now-w-where.”

When he goes over to unlock the doors, he smoothes a hand over her roof in apology.

“Are you okay?” Cas asks once Dean’s turned the engine over and eased Baby back into traffic. A sudden stab of fear goes through Dean that Cas could think Dean might be embarrassed over strangers knowing they’re a couple.

“Yeah, just, uh. Took me b-b-by surprise is all-l-l. I’m not,” he adjust his hands on the wheel, fumbles for the right words. “It d-d-doesn’t bother me. Not really. Just, uh. Didn’t expect him to s-s-say _th-that_ of a-a-all things.”

Cas nods. “I didn’t either. Though I have to admit that when I told him about what we are to each other, I didn’t think about it in terms of labels, so it’s understandable he didn’t quite know what to say.”

Dean was the one who ended up giving Jack _the talk_ after a bizarre case with a zombified boyfriend. He’d been very thorough and overall it was much easier than with Sam back in the day, since Jack doesn’t know shame or embarrassment when it comes to this stuff and is blunt to a fault. But it happened before he and Cas became a thing, and was driven mostly by Dean’s worry about Jack’s utter naivety on the subject. He still can’t believe that Sam, at _thirty_ , hadn’t known what roofies looked like. It had taken a while for Dean to stop beating himself up over that.

In trying to shove those thoughts away, the part of Dean that is dumb perks up again, telling him that he’s disappointed Cas doesn’t insist that what Jack said was, in fact, the correct term, because he does think of Dean as… as the one he’s committed to, the one he promises he’ll cherish and care for and never ever leave again.

“Sound-d-ded k-kinda n-n-nice actually,” Dean says, trying for light and joking and landing somewhere south of shy and insecure. He clams up, but he can feels Cas staring at him.

“You enjoyed being called my husband,” Cas says at length, hesitant like he’s trying to parse out what exactly they’re even talking about. Dean’s stupid heart still skips a beat as hearing Cas say _my husband_ out loud. It’s so pathetic, he has to resist the urge to bang his head against the steering wheel. Maybe that would knock some sense into him, but he’s treated Baby wrong enough today.

They’ve reached the motel parking lot by now, and Dean parks a couple spots away from Eileen’s beat-up Toyota Corolla. Baby’s engine ticks as it cools down, but neither of them makes any move to get out of the car.

“We’re not w-w-wearing r-r-rings or anything. No one’d bel-l-lieve it, I guess,” Dean says at length, torn between his head wanting him to stay realistic about this and the needs of his stupid, stupid heart.

“We could, if we wanted to. Do you want to?”

Cas's eyes, when Dean finally meets them, are shining with something like excitement, like he’s found something that he thinks will make Dean happy, and that’s enough of a reason for him to want this, too. If he’s offering this, is must mean that he doesn’t think Dean’s being needy or stupid for wanting it, and that quietens Dean’s fears, makes him brave enough to say: “I—y-yeah. Yes.” It comes out a little breathless, and only once the words are out of his mouth does he realize how that sounded, what those words mean.

Cas just smiles at him, like he knows what it means too. And Dean doesn’t know what’s on his face but it makes Cas lean forward and then they’re kissing so gently, it almost hurts in way that Dean never believed he’d get to ever experience.

He must have closed his eyes at some point, and when he open them again, Cas is still close. Dean’s hands must have decided to move without asking him first, because they’re buried in Cas's navy suit jacket, holding tight.

“D-did… did we just get m-m-m-married in a motel parking l-l-lot?”

Cas hums, like he has to actually think about the answer. “There weren’t any witnesses, so I’m not sure it counts,” he says, and wow, leave it to Cas to tease Dean in a moment like this.

“How d-d-dare you,” Dean retaliates, mock-offended, “Since when d-does Baby not c-c-count?”

Cas rolls his eyes but he’s smiling. “Fine. We had a witness. It’s official.”

“Good. C-c-cuz me ‘n Baby, we’re a p-p-package d-deal.”

Cas huffs. “I’m aware.”

They’re both smiling too wide to really kiss but they do anyway, until finally Cas draws back and strokes a thumb down Dean’s cheek.

“There’s actually something else I wanted to ask you.”

Dean would rather keep doing the kissing thing but there’s something in Cas's voice that makes him pay attention. Baby creaks when he shifts in his seat and sits up straighter.

Cas looks like he’s bracing himself, watching Dean closely.

“I’ve been worried. About you. But I don’t want to sound ungrateful, so I don’t quite know how to say this... “ Cas looks torn, so Dean takes his hand. Gives it a reassuring squeeze. Cas takes a breath.

“I know you’re a caretaker,” Cas says, slowly, like he’s marshaling his thoughts, “and I am endlessly grateful for how you’ve helped Jack today. But he is not your responsibility, nor should he ever have been. I will always regret that caring for him fell to you and Sam, when you had never signed up for that. And yet, you worry about him. And you worry about Sam. About Eileen. About Sam _and_ Eileen, their relationship.” He pauses. “About me, and about asking too much of me. And I’m scared that you’re exhausting yourself. That you’re giving too much of yourself, _again_.”

Dean needs a moment to digest that. There’s a part of him that wants to insist that what Cas is talking about is Dean’s job, that it _is_ his responsibility. But that part has gotten more and more cracks over the years. Except, maybe, for the part that will always be ready to do everything to keep his little brother safe. He doesn’t think that’s ever going to change.

Taking stock, he can admit that he does feel tired in more than a physical way. It’s hard to miss, really, with the way his speech will immediately get worse when he’s agitated, distressed, or exhausted.

Still, “I don’t know if I c-c-can, y’know. Just turn th-that off. And I really d-do n-n-need to t-talk to S-S-Sam l-l-later. Didn’t g-get a chance with this,” he taps against his temple, “a-a-acting u-up.”

“I know,” Cas says, looking at him fondly. “But what you _can_ do is rest. Like taking a nap after lunch, instead of joining us for research.”

“Hey, you know m-me. A-a-any chance I get t-to b-b-bow out of res-s-search, I’m g-g-g-game.”

“It’s not bowing out, Dean,” Cas says, mildly chiding. “It’s taking care of yourself.”

“F-f-fine,” Dean says, pouting even while he feels all warmed inside from being fussed over. “For the r-r-rec-c-cord, I h-h-hate sleeping al-l-lone.”

“I’m sure the pillows in our bed will appreciate a good hugging,” Cas says, moving to get out of the car. Dean is very much not okay with the loss of contact that goes along with that.

“Not th-the sa-a-ame,” he grouses, getting out from behind the wheel and walking around Baby’s front. He decides to be brave and to fuck what anyone might think, and grabs Cas's hand to hold it. They’re married now, so that means their honeymoon has started. No one can blame him for being a little touchy-feely. Or a lot, even. For like, the rest of forever.

It’s not until they’re in their room that it really registers with Dean how tired he is. Lying down and passing out for a while suddenly holds a lot more appeal than it did five minutes ago, especially once he catches sight of the bed and remembers how comfy it’s proven to be.

“Food l-l-later. Sleep now,” he announces, kicking off his boots and snuggling right in. Then he reaches up, eyes already closed, and tucks at Cas's pants leg until he sits down next to him on the edge of the bed. “Stay until I’m asl-l-leep?” He asks, nudging his pillow with his head until it’s shaped around him the way he likes.

Cas huffs. “Of course.” The exasperation in his tone is belied by the hand that brushes the side of Dean’s face and then starts carding through his hair.

“Mmm, th-that’s n-n-nice,” Dean murmurs, and that’s the last thing he remembers before he passes out.


	3. Chapter 3

When he wakes up again, he’s disoriented and alone, which serves to make him instantly grumpy. Checking the time, he sees that he’s been out for close to an hour. After throwing some water on his face and fussing with his hair, he goes to join the others in Sam and Jack’s room.

When Cas opens the door for him, he looks like he already expected Dean’s grumpy frown. Before Dean can voice any of his—perfectly justified—complaints, he gets a peck on the mouth and a mug of freshly brewed coffee. “Hey, Bear,” Cas whispers for only Dean to hear, and damn him, it’s really hard to stay grumpy after that. 

Jack is sitting cross-legged on what Dean assumes is his bed. Eileen has the desk, which she’s moved away from the wall so she can easily see all of them. She’s changed into regular clothes and looks refreshed and a lot more comfortable now that there’s AC and they’re out of the heat. Sam is sprawled in one of the two armchairs. It’s been hours, but he’s still wearing his FBI suit like it’s some kind of armor against everyone around him, which immediately tells Dean that whatever Sam is feeling he’s trying to keep it from all of them. 

Cas sits back down on the other bed with his back against the headboard, scooting over to make room for Dean. Dean briefly contemplates sitting a respectable distance away, then decides that he doesn’t want to, so everyone will have to deal with it. He ends up basically on top of Cas, calves and elbows touching, shoulders rubbing together.

Eileen hides a smile behind her hand. Sam throws one look at them and rolls his eyes. Dean is tempted to stick his tongue out at him.

“What I m-m-miss?” He asks instead, sipping his coffee. For something brewed in a motel-provided coffee maker, it’s not half bad. “We g-g-got a solid theory?”   


Everyone groans. 

Dean blinks. “Th-that bad?” 

“The people at the shelters were very nice,” Eileen says, frustration evident in the way her brow is furrowed and her mouth pinched. “But it’s just like Molly told you and Jack—nobody has seen or heard anything that would help us. People are even more desperate for a place inside a shelter than before, but they don’t have the capacities. Not one person has gone missing from a shelter, but that is about all we could find out.” 

“There was this guy, David Guerrero,” Sam adds, putting his tablet down so he has both hands free for signing. “He got arrested in 2016 for a string of violent attacks and murders of homeless people. Then last year, he got the death penalty. I thought maybe he stuck around, but the MO doesn’t fit. I looked at the files, and he used to mutilate the bodies and leave them at the scene, not hide them somewhere. And despite the salt circle, Molly said her friend was gone the next morning. It could be he lured them away somehow, but if her friend left on her own the person keeping watch should have seen something.” 

“V-v-vamps?” 

“Could be, but they’d have to be damn stealthy. And the nest would have to be huge to warrant that many killings. They’d need some place to meet up and feed, but I’ve been checking the local warehouses and none of them are abandoned or recently changed owners. All the businesses renting one are legit.”

Dean turns to Cas. 

“I thought it could be a tulpa. If several people disappeared for non-supernatural-related reasons, the idea could have spread that something was outside at night, kidnapping people.”

“A shapeshifter could also have lured them away,” Eileen pipes up. She’s frowning though, not convinced by the idea. “But the fact that they disappeared like that sounds more like demons or witches, and yet there has been no sign of either.” 

“No reports of any-th-thing else w-w-weird?” 

Jack is still typing away on his laptop, only briefly lifting his head to answer. “Strange lights in the sky that some websites claim were UFO sightings, but that’s about it.” He’s still wearing the ballcap Dean got him, but he changed into a different tee, the brown color of which clashes horribly with his navy cap. It looks like something Sam would wear. How the fuck is Dean the only one with any goddamn fashion sense in this family? Then the thing about lights and UFOs sinks in and Dean makes a face. 

“We s-s-sure it’s not god-d-damn f-f-faeries ag-gain?” 

“Did Molly mention anyone seeing those lights close to their encampment?” Cas asks. 

“No?”

“Then it’s not faeries.” Cas leans over and takes Dean’s still half-full coffee mug from him. He sips on it and then grimaces. 

“Hey!” Dean protests, snatching his mug back. “G-g-get your own!”

“You weren’t drinking it.”

“Yeah, c-c-cause I was  _ t-t-talking _ ! What you doing drinking c-c-coffee anyw-w-way?”

“I was merely curious about the quality. And I barely drank any of it, you’re being overly dramatic again.”

Dean’s about to retaliate that they’re in their honeymoon and Cas is supposed to be nice to Dean for the rest of forever, but then Sam is saying, “Guys, can we stay on topic please?” so Dean scowls and grumbles into his mug instead. 

“So what’s the p-p-plan?”

“We’ve been going through the lore looking for anything else that could be doing this,” Eileen says, pointing at her laptop and the books strewn around her. “But so far nothing really fits.” 

“So more r-r-research then?” Fantastic. If only he’d slept longer. 

Cas is already handing Dean a book from the pile beside him—who the fuck decided they would take so many books from the library with them? Dean can’t remember being consulted about that—and his C-pen and headphones. Dean still hasn’t decided if listening to a recorded voice read the words on the page out to him is better or worse than having to read them himself. He was never a fast reader, but it definitely takes longer this way. 

On the bright side, Cas also hands him a paper bag with two sandwiches in them. Fresh, nice ones, not the nasty pre-packaged kind you get at gas stations. 

“Would you mind not eating those on my bed?” Sam grouses while Dean stuffs his face. 

“No, I d-d-don’t mind,” Dean says in between bites, and stays right where he is. 

Cas tries to take Dean’s sandwich from him. “Dean, you’re not a python! You need to eat slower, and chew more.” 

Dean leans away and fights him off. “C-c-can’t a man eat in peace here?! Stop fricken j-j-judging me!”

“I’m not judging you, I’m concerned about your health.” 

“So you t-t-try t-to steal my f-f-food?” 

“Guys, seriously—”

Dean frowns at Sam and points an accusatory finger at Cas. 

“He t-t-tried to steal m-my  _ sand-d-dwich _ !”

Sam rolls his eyes and turns back to his tablet, muttering something about kindergarteners under his breath. Dean flicks breadcrumbs on Sam’s pillow in retaliation. 

He also eats a little slower, but only because the sandwich is really nice and he wants to savor it. 

Everyone’s gone back to their research, so Dean begrudgingly pulls his own book close and plugs his headphones into the C-pen. He lets it read the index to him and then skips to the chapter that sounds the most promising. Not that he thinks they’re going to find the answer in one of these old tomes. Something is nagging at him, his instincts telling him that all their theories are going in the wrong direction. 

About half an hour later, he’s still chewing his way through the book—reading is definitely even worse now, because he can’t skim pages anymore—when suddenly, he gets a kiss on the cheek. 

He looks up, only to see Cas settle back against the headboard, turning the page of his own book, acting like nothing out of the ordinary has happened. 

Alright then. Dean knows that game. 

For about five minutes, Dean pretends to be listening to what the stupid pen is reading to him. And then he quickly leans over and pecks Cas's cheek. 

Dean can feel Cas looking at him after, and expects another kiss. Instead, Cas takes Dean’s left hand in his and then rests both their hands on his thigh, fingers intertwined. He goes back to his book, but Dean stares at their hands for a moment. They look good together, somehow, Cas's bigger hand holding his so securely, and the connection eases something inside Dean that’s always anxious, always yearning. 

He’s on his second book by the time he needs a break from the fucking recorded voice reading to him. Chucking the headphones to the side, he shimmies down the bed, leans his head back and closes his eyes. Cas doesn’t move, but his thumb starts stroking circles into the back of Dean’s hand. The affection makes Dean melt further, and if he hadn’t had that nap earlier, he’d probably fall asleep right then and there just from how soothing it feels. 

As it is, he only gets a few minutes of peace until he becomes aware of a sudden rise of tension in the room. Sam, who’d been buried in his tablet when Dean closed his eyes, is staring furiously into space, shoulders a rigid line and mouth turned down. Cas is staring at Sam over Dean’s head, fixing him with a glare. He’s also tightened his hold on Dean’s hand, and Dean gets the distinct feeling he’s being fought over. Or more like, Sam noticed their hand-holding and Cas noticed Sam’s reaction and went into overprotective mode. 

Sam’s disapproval hurts, and Dean’s instinct is to let go off Cas's hand so the peace can be kept. 

Instead, he surrenders to the tight hold, lets Cas be strong for the both of them. He tries to catch Sam’s eyes but Sam abruptly gets up and stalks out of the room without a word. Jack is so immersed in what looks like security cam footage he doesn’t even look up, and Eileen seems to be trying to do her best to ignore their little domestic dispute. 

Dean can’t fault her for that. He wished he could ignore it too, or rather, he wished it wasn’t happening in the first place—that Sam would be happy for him, and he and Cas could be happy for Sam and Eileen. But that’s not what’s happening, so they’re going to have to hash it out. Dean’s not suffering from the mother of all migraines right now, he can talk okay, and they’re not getting anywhere with their research anyway. Perfect timing.

With a sigh, Dean squeezes Cas's hand and then lets go. From the look Cas gives him, he knows that means Dean’s going after Sam to have a Talk. There’s frustration, like Cas wants to protect Dean from this while knowing he can’t, but understanding as well. Dean leans forward for a quick kiss, and then a second one for good luck, and then a third one just because. It’s ridiculous how even these kisses that are barely more than pecks have his heart pounding. 

Cas looks a lot happier after, so Dean decides three were definitely justified. Maybe he should make it a rule that the one leaving the room has to kiss the other goodbye at least three times. 

Dean stomps his feet back into his boots and heads towards the parking lot. Sam is right where he expected him to be, sitting on Baby’s hood. It’s still really hot and Dean’s a little worried about burning off his bits by sitting on the heated metal, but he settles himself beside Sam. 

They share a long moment of silence, and then Sam blows out a breath. “Just say it.”

Dean turns to him but Sam keeps frowning at the asphalt, tense all over. 

“Say w-w-what?” 

Sam inhales sharply and pushes away from the car. Starts to pace. 

“Say you’re pissed at me! That I’m acting like an ass! Don’t just—sit there!” 

Dean blinks at Sam. 

“You  _ w-w-want _ me to yell a-a-at you?” 

Sam throws up his hands. “Yes! No! I don’t know.” He deflates. “I guess it’d just… make it easier.” 

“Easier?” Dean repeats, frowning, confused. “What’d b-b-be e-e-easier? D-dude, you’re not m-m-making sense.” 

Sam clams up again and Dean sighs. 

“Look, back when I t-t-told you about me ‘n h-h-him, a-a-and you d-d-didn’t bel-l-lieve me at f-f-first? Yeah, th-that hurt. But I  _ got _ it. And then l-l-later when you were w-w-worried what it’d d-do to us if it didn’t w-w-work out, if C-Cas l-l-left ag-gain? I g-g-got that t-too. It’s not l-l-like I wasn’t w-w-worried about th-that mys-s-self. But r-r-right now? Me and h-him, we’re  _ good _ . So what the  _ fuck _ is your problem with us a-a-acting like a c-c-couple?” 

Dean’s out of breath by the time he’s done even though he didn’t even yell, and he rubs his jaw in frustration. With how much he’s been talking and how bad his stutter is getting, he’s going to have a sore throat by the end of the day. 

Sam is staring at the asphalt, or maybe the cracks in it, looking guilty and angry. But Dean’s starting to suspect maybe the anger isn’t pointed at him at all. 

“I don’t know. Or, I do, but I don’t—get it.” Sam rakes a hand through his hair, radiating frustration. “I’d just gotten you back and you’d been through the grinder and you were wobbly and confused and I just—I felt so protective. And then things were looking up, and suddenly you tell me—and yeah, I was worried. But I could see the affection was real and you were  _ so happy _ , I’d never seen you like that! And yet, I was not okay with seeing you guys together, and it was awful, and I didn’t get why!” Sam’s voice is rising and he’s is making agitated gestures, eyes shining with hurt and with anger at himself. 

“I mean, we’d met Jesse and César, we’d met—and I never had a problem with it before, so why now? And then Mom and Bobby were there, and I realized it was the same exact feeling! I was happy for her but I didn’t want to watch her make out with someone and disappear into the same room with them at night, especially someone I’d never imagined her to be with! But she’s my  _ Mom _ , so that’s normal, right? But then why did I feel that way whenever I saw you with Cas? You’re not my  _ parent _ , you’re—I shouldn’t be reacting that way, it’s fucked up and wrong and I fucking  _ hate _ myself for it, okay?!”

Sam’s eyes are wild and his chest is heaving by the time he’s done, and he’s got a look about him like he  _ wants _ Dean to punch him in the face. 

Dean sighs. 

“Sam, c’mon… you gotta stop with th-that self-flagel-l-lation.”

“You of all people are gonna tell me not to blame myself?!”

“Yeah, I a-a-am!” Dean’s close to yelling himself, so he takes a deep, measured breath. “Look, you c-c-can’t tell yours-s-self not to feel a certain w-w-way. That’s ain’t how it w-w-works. And I a-a-ain’t gonna blame you f-f-for how you f-feel, no matter how much you t-try to r-r-rile me up. Did it fucking h-h-hurt to feel l-l-like you weren’t accept-t-ting that side of m-me? Yes. But I get the r-r-reason. I mean it m-makes sense.”

Sam stops and stares at him incredulously. “Makes sense,” he repeats, “how in the fuck does it make sense?!” 

Dean rubs a hand over his face. “Sam, c’mon,” and he can’t help the way he sounds like he’s pleading; he fucking hates talking about this topic. “The w-w-way we grew up, you d-d-didn’t have a r-r-real Mom and Dad. You had-d-d me, and I guess S-S-Sully for w-w-while, and the sh-sh-shell that was D-D-Dad. It was m-m-messed up. You c-c-can’t blame yours-s-self for b-b-being c-c-con-f-fused.” 

Dean’s throat muscles are spasming by the end and Sam looks as close to tears as Dean feels. Talking about this isn’t easy on either of them. 

“L-l-look, just. T-t-try and accept me ‘n C-C-Cas and stop taking-g-g this out on us, and we c-c-can f-forget the whole th-thing. But you gotta f-f-forgive yours-s-self.”

Sam is nodding with his eyes shut, swallowing convulsively. Dean knows that look. 

He scoots forward on Baby’s hood, opens his arms. “Come h-here you big l-l-lug.” And then he’s got an armful of teary little brother clinging to him and pressing his wet face into Dean’s shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Dean, I’m—so sorry.”

“Shhh, I know.” 

Dean rubs Sam’s trembling back until Sam is calmed down, squeezing Dean one more time before letting go. “I missed you,” Sam says, smile watery but genuine. “When did you get so wise?”

“Back w-when I real-l-lized the Godz-z-zilla versus Mothra original r-r-rocks and the rem-m-make s-s-sucks.”

Sam laughs and shakes his head, still smiling. He sits back down beside Dean. 

“Since we’re alread-d-dy havin’ a heart t-t-to h-h-heart, wanna tell me w-w-what’s up with you and-d-d Eil-l-leen?” 

Sam looks like he’s about to start talking, then hesitates. “I could, but, dude—you sound exhausted. If I wear you out, Cas is gonna kill me.” 

Dean groans and rolls his eyes. “Cas is overc-c-compensation city. I’ll handle h-him.” 

Sam looks amused. “Alright.” He takes a breath, and the amusement fades into vague sadness. 

“I worked a poltergeist case with her while you were still recovering. We’d been skyping every night since she got back from Ireland. And during the time when—right after we got you back, and we didn’t know if—I don’t know what I’d have done without her.” Sam pauses to take a breath.

“She told me how she felt. That she wanted more. And I wanted so bad to say yes, but I—I couldn’t. We’ve barely talked since then, mostly because I’m a coward. Just about cases and how you’ve been doing, things like that.” 

Dean chews on that for a moment. “Okay. Expl-l-lain that ‘I could-d-dn’t’ thing to m-me. ‘C-c-cause th-that s-s-sounds like you w-were af-f-fraid of something-g-g.” 

Sam seems to be fighting with himself, like he has to force himself to keep talking. “I just couldn’t stop thinking about—if we did this, if I let her that close. She’d have questions. I’d have to let myself—I did so much bad, Dean! And once she knew, she’d wouldn’t want anything to do with me anymore!” He takes a deep breath, scrubs both hands down his face. His eyes are dry but still red from earlier. 

Dean gives him a moment to calm down, using the time to think about what he wants to say. 

“I get you b-b-being scared. Ok-k-kay? Th-there’s no shame in th-that. This crap is f-f-fucking s-s-scary. B-but you can’t t-t-take Eil-l-leen’s decision from h-h-her. If she decides she  _ l-l-likes you _ l-likes you, you d-don’t get to d-d-decide she sh-shouldn’t.”

Sam huffs in weak amusement at Dean’s word choice, but looks at him warily. “Are you good to—?” He gestures vaguely.

“Just g-g-give me a sec.” Dean breathes deeply for a minute rubbing his jaw. It still frustrates him how talking is such a goddamn chore now, especially when he has important shit to say. 

“B-but you gotta b-be  _ honest _ with her. You c-can’t j-j-just cherry pick what you sh-show her and what n-n-not. No one’s s-s-sayin’ you gotta bear your ent-t-tire soul all-l-l at once, but. If she f-f-finds something-g-g she d-don’t l-l-like, that a-a-ain’t the end of the w-w-world. You don’t gotta l-l-love  _ everything _ about a p-person. You th-think  _ Cas _ likes me throwin’ mys-s-self in d-danger ‘c-c-cause I don’t care, or th-that _ I _ like him m-making decisions beh-hind my b-back to k-k-keep me safe or whatev-v-ver? Hell no! B-but we’re w-w-working through our crap. You just gotta be willing-g-g t-to put in the effort.” 

Sam looks torn and vaguely guilty by the end, so Dean nudges him, “So w-what if you’re a-a-a m-mountain of issues with a b-b-bad hair cut. If she wants t-to c-c-climb that? I’d say l-l-let ‘er.” Then he leers. “Or r-r-ride th-that mayb-be.” 

“Ugh, stop that, Dean!” Sam makes a face and shoves Dean lightly, but his mouth twitches with the smile he’s obviously and unsuccessfully trying to fight down. But his expression quickly grows troubled again, and he avoids Dean’s eyes. 

“What? C’mon, out w-w-with it.” 

Sam fidgets and looks so vulnerable suddenly, it makes Dean duck his head and lower his voice. 

“Hey. You c-c-can say whatev-v-ver it is. This is a s-s-safe room.” He pauses, rolls his eyes. “Parking-g-g l-l-lot. Whatever.”

A muscle in Sam’s jaw jumps. At length, he says, “I don’t know if I still want—I mean. I haven’t. I mean, the last time was what, three years ago? And I—and it was good, but I.” Sam rubs a hand down his mouth, something he only does when he’s seriously agitated, and it’s starting to dawn on Dean what the problem is. “But I stopped—wanting to. I mean, there was so much going on, I thought I just didn’t have the time, that it was just the stress. But now, with Eileen—and I  _ want _ to kiss her, and hold her, but I don’t know if I want—”

Swallowing convulsively, Sam breaks himself off. 

“Hey, hey, hey, woah.” Dean rubs Sam’s back: big, comforting circles. 

“And I just didn’t want to talk about it. Think about it. But then she said—and I just panicked.” 

“Sam, th-that’s—” Dean flounders for a moment. PTSD is basically their middle name at this point but that doesn’t mean he’s a shrink or something. 

“If I explained it, I’m sure she’d understand. Maybe we’d even find a way to work around it, but. I just hate feeling like there’s a part of me that—”

“A part of you th-that’s not the w-w-way it used t-to b-be?” 

“Yeah.” Sam looks at him, peering into his eyes like he’s convinced Dean must know a way to fix this. “I mean, how do you deal with it?” 

Dean gestures at his throat. “You m-m-mean th-this stuff?” He shrugs. “I d-d-dunno. Guess you g-g-gotta b-be a-a-angry for a while. And th-then find a way t-to l-l-live with it. Some d-days are h-h-harder than oth-thers, b-but. I’ve g-g-gotten over w-w-worse, I g-guess.” 

For a long moment, Sam is quiet. 

“Not what y-you w-w-wanted to hear, huh?” Dean teases, a little regretful because he doesn’t know what else to tell Sam to help him. Sam surprises him by huffing out a breath of laughter, and by smiling like somehow, he’s relieved.

“No, but. Maybe it’s what I  _ needed _ to hear.” 

Huh. Maybe Dean’s not  _ completely _ useless at giving advice then. 

They share a couple minutes of comfortable silence and then Sam groans and chuckles ruefully. “I still got to apologize to Cas too. I can’t imagine it will go over this well.” When Dean arches an eyebrow at him, Sam explains, “You’re too forgiving. You’re all bark and no bite, you don’t hold grudges. But Cas is like, kinda scary when it comes to you? I bet—”

But Dean doesn’t wait to find out what Sam bets, because it suddenly clicks with him. 

Barking.

_ Dog _ .

Dean jumps off of the car, cutting Sam off mid-sentence. “C’mon, I th-think I know what we’re hunt-t-ting-g-g.”

>

“Hide-behinds?”

Cas has put his book to the side and is squinting at Dean. Jack looks up from his laptop with a frown of confusion. 

“What are those?” 

“In appearance they’re like very big, very thin dogs,” Cas explains. “However they can walk on two legs if they choose to. They’re extremely stealthy and can hide behind the smallest object due to their ability to completely suck in their stomachs.” He turns to Dean again. “But they’re forest dwellers and they can go months and even years without food. Why would one suddenly venture into the city and prey upon so many people in such a short amount of time?” 

Sam has sat back down in the armchair close to Eileen, and with Dean’s voice shot to hell he starts signing for him as soon as Dean starts talking again. 

“Yeah, b-but the thing a-a-ain’t dumb. I m-mean th-think ab-b-bout it. B-back in the d-day, if couple d-d-dudes went m-m-missing in the w-w-woods, people sh-sh-shrugged a-a-and cut their l-l-losses. but now? It’s all ov-ver the news, th-there’s helicopters and search p-p-parties and hunters on their t-trail. They’re shy, they d-d-don’t w-w-want that k-kinda at-t-tention. So what d-does it do? It goes and f-f-finds a s-s-safer hunting-g-g ground.”

“Okay,” Sam says. “Makes sense. But why would it go after so many? As far as I know, they hunt alone, so it can’t be a whole pack. You think it’s gone rabid?” 

Dean shakes his head. “Possible, b-but I th-think it’s g-g-got—”

“Babies,” Eileen finishes for him, sudden realization brightening her features. “It has more than one mouth to feed.” Even her signing is suddenly a lot more animated, frustration replaced by excitement. 

Sam holds up a hand. “Okay, but, hold on. How have we never heard of something like this happening before? That many people disappearing so quickly would raise a lot of red flags. I mean, shouldn’t we have heard of some kind of precedent?”

“Not if you take into account how rarely they mate,” Cas throws in, pausing his signing to tap the cover of the book in his lap. “What your lore doesn’t mention is that they only mate about every hundred years, and even then only if there is both a sufficiently safe environment and a large enough food source at hand. There’s a reason they used to hunt prey as large as buffalo before the settlers wiped those out.” 

“But how come no one has seen it leave with its… kill?” Jack asks with a frown, the word probably not sitting right with him while referring to a human being. “Wouldn’t it have to drag it all the way back to where it lives?” 

“A hide-behind suffocates its prey by crushing the windpipe in much the same way lions do. Then it unhinges its jaw and swallows the prey whole.” Cas's eyes briefly flicker to Dean, and the edge of his mouth twitches like he’s holding back a smile. “Like a python.”

Dean really wants to complain now about everyone making fun of his eating habits but then something else occurs to him. 

“W-w-wait, so. When it’s b-back in its hid-d-dey hole, it what? Pukes it a-a-all back up f-f-for the k-k-kids?”

“Yes.”

Dean makes a face. “Ew.”

Instead of joining Dean in his justified disgust, Sam says, “Speaking of its lair. I can’t imagine it would find a ‘sufficiently safe environment’ in the city. So it’s gotta be somewhere more remote, right? But with no other clues, where are we supposed to start looking?”

Dean smirks. “L-l-look for m-missing d-d-dogs.” 

“What?”

“Of course. Hide-behinds view coyotes, wolves, foxes, and even domesticated dogs as rivals and will kill them immediately if they find them in their territory, especially if they wander close to their lair.” Cas looks at Sam. “Though I imagine if you go through the list Molly provided us, you will find that it stayed away from people with pets while hunting. With having young ones to feed, it would not dare waste the time or the possibility of the dog barking in alarm. But it would not tolerate a dog wandering close to its home.”   


Jack starts typing, and a moment later announces, “I got four that went missing recently and far outside the city. A shepherd mix, two Doberman Pinscher, and a Husky.”

Sam gets up and looks over Jack’s shoulder. “Where?”

“One in Harbison Canyon, but the other three? They all went missing during hikes on El Cajon Mountain.” 

Jack looks excited but Sam is still frowning. “Okay, but that’s still kind of thin, right? I mean, it doesn’t really prove anything.” 

“It’s still the best lead we got,” Eileen counters. “And if we’re right, we could stop that thing tonight before it kills anyone else. I say we should at least check it out.”

Jack squints at his screen. “But where should we look? This mountain is… big.”

Sam makes that face he does when his giant nerd brain kicks into gear and then suddenly his expression clears. “Wait a second. Isn’t there an abandoned mine there?”

Eileen types quickly and then pumps a fist in the air in victory. She turns her laptop around for them to see, and it shows a photo of a fenced off area with three tunnels cut into a chalky hillside.

Dean frowns at it and then at Sam. “How the  _ fuck _ d-d-did you know th-there’s a f-f-fricken m-m-mine there?”

“I, um. Kinda wanted to go hiking there some time?” Sam sounds all sheepish, but Dean can hear the excitement underneath. He groans. 

“I k-k-keep forg-g-getting you a-a-actually  _ l-l-like _ stumb-b-bling ov-ver spiky r-r-rocks a-a-and sw-w-weating l-l-like a p-pig.  _ Ugh _ . We are s-s-so not rel-l-l—rel-l-l—”

“Related,” Sam finishes for him when Dean blocks, rolling his eyes and looking unimpressed. “Yeah, yeah. You were raised in a barn, I know.”

Dean scowls and crosses his arms, pouting. “ _ You _ w-were r-r-raised in a b-b-barn,” he mutters. 

Suddenly there’s Cas at his elbow, a hand settling against the small of Dean’s back. Cas squints at the screen, then starts signing one-handedly. “How far up the mountain is that mine?” 

Eileen turns her laptop around and types. “It’s close to the 3.5 mile marker and right after the first height. There’s a very short side trail branched off to the left that leads .1 mile uphill to the entrance to three mine shafts.” She bites her lip, looking up at them. “But it is a very steep climb. And the hike is recommended for the winter, and to start in the early morning hours. The entire Open Space Preserve was closed last month because of the heat. ” 

Sam picks up his tablet again and pokes at it, brow furrowed. “Okay, so the entire climb to the top would be 11 miles at an elevation gain of 4000 feet and would take about eight hours, but we don’t even need to get half that far. Driving distance to the mountain is an hour. If we can be there by three, we’d have four hours to reach the mine before the sun sets. Should be enough.”

“Yeah, b-but we’d have t-to c-c-climb b-back down in th-the d-d-dark. Th-that a-a-ain’t exactly s-s-safe.”

Raking a hand through his hair, Sam sighs. “I know. But Eileen’s right—if we don’t take care of this today, that means it’s almost guaranteed that someone dies tonight. And if we head out early tomorrow, there’s a big chance that others hikers will be there. Besides, even if one of us like, twists an ankle, that’s not that much of a problem since we got Cas with us.”

That makes Dean frown. “Cas a-a-ain’t our em-m-mergency k-k-kit, Sam.”

“Woah, hey, that’s not what I’m saying!”

“Dean.” Cas puts his hand on Dean’s shoulder, and Dean easily yields when Cas turns him around. “It’s all right,” Cas says, voice as soft as the look in his eyes when they meet Dean’s. “While I appreciate the sentiment I know what Sam meant, and I agree with him.” Then his expression morphs into a frown. “I can’t say I enjoy the idea of climbing down a mountain with nothing but flashlights to guide the way, but then again I can’t remember a single time we’ve ever liked our own plans.”

Sam huffs a breath of laughter but Dean shrugs. “I l-l-like my gren-n-nade l-l-launcher p-plans.”

Cas and Sam both groan and roll their eyes, and Dean glowers at them. “F-f-fuck you g-guys. Those plans a-a-all p-p-panned out a-a-and saved the fricken d-d-day.” 

“Oh yeah, except how you shredded your knee the last time.”

“It still w-w-worked! Also th-that wasn’t the l-l-launcher’s fault. It was the r-r-rocks that f-f-fell o-o-on me.”

“Guys!” Eileen suddenly calls. “You want to stay here and talk a big game or you want to get your asses into gear?” She’s already packed her bag and put on her shoes, and is looking at them impatiently, motioning for them to get a move on. 

All three of them shuffle guiltily. Sam rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry,” he signs and says with a sheepish smile, “we’ll hurry.”

Jack, who’d apparently wisely ignored their shenanigans in favor of more research, closes his laptop and looks up at them. “There’s a store that sells hiking equipment on the way, we could stop there. How will we kill those hide-behinds? The lore only says they’re repelled by alcohol.”

Dean shakes his head. “Th-that’s bullshit. They o-o-only spread that to m-m-make people buy more of the stuff b-back in the d-d-day. Silver knife does the j-j-job just f-f-fine. Don’t w-w-waste your t-t-time with b-b-bullets, they don’t d-d-do it m-much d-d-damage.” 

“Alright,” Sam is saying. “Let’s hurry up and meet at the car in ten. Everybody pack at least three liters of water, you’re gonna need it.”

Cas is quiet on the way back to their room, but Dean can tell he’s got something to say he doesn’t want to discuss in front of the others. Sure enough, as soon as the door clicks shut behind them, Cas puts a hand on Dean’s arm. Not restraining in any way, just—holding on.   


“Dean?” 

Dean sighs, because he’s pretty sure he knows what this is about, but Cas surprises him by smiling, somehow managing to look rueful and fond at the same time. 

“As much as I wished you’d stay here and rest, I’m not going to ask you to. I know you hate being idle while there’s something you could do to help. But could you promise me something?” 

“What?” Dean asks, hushed in the intimacy of Cas looking at him with such care. 

“Promise me you'll stay close. That you'll let me help. That—please just be careful.” 

Dean kind of wants to pull a Han Solo and say he's always careful, but the worry Cas radiates gives him pause, has him choose honesty over making a quip. 

“Yeah, ‘kay. I c-c-can d-do that.”

Cas sags a little in relief. 

“Thank you.”

Dean shrugs. “Hey, I g-g-get it. You just w-w-wanna watch m-my  _ butt _ while I c-climb up that rock.” He finishes with a playful leer and Cas rolls his eyes, a smile tugging at his mouth. 

“You're incorrigible.” 

Dean winks, and then turns to go grab his duffel. 

“And besides, there wouldn't be much to watch. You have a very flat behind.”

Cas looks very pleased with himself while Dean stares at him in open-mouthed shock. 

“A-a-are you saying I have a panc-c-cake b-butt?!” 

“I'm just saying your butt is not the reason I want to be watching your back.” Cas says it all earnest and innocent but there's that twinkle in his eyes that means he's full of shit and enjoying teasing Dean. 

Grumbling under his breath, Dean throws his duffle on his bed and starts rummaging through it. 

“My b-b-butt is am-m-mazing. You're j-just jeal-l-lous.”

“Of course, Bear.”

“Don’t c-c-call me th-that when I’m m-m-mad at y-you.”

“Yes, Bear.”

>

They’re still bickering by the time they make it to the parking lot where, of course, everyone is already waiting for them. Sam looks at Dean with a frown.

“Dude, why are you wearing shorts?”

Dean looks down at where the dark blue shorts he’s wearing end just above his knees and then back up at Sam. “C-c-cause I’d sweat m-my  _ ass _ off in jeans!”

Cas turns to Sam. “I already warned him that it will get much colder once the sun sets.”

“Yeah, a-a-and I said I’d rath-ther freeze th-than s-s-sweat.”

Sam sighs. “At least those aren’t the short shorts you reserve for when you wash the car. Way more inner thigh than I care to see.”

Dean scowls at Sam and then at Cas. Cas squints at him. “I’m not giving you my coat later.”

“I don’t w-w-want your stupid f-f-fl-l-lasher coat any-w-way.”

Cas is about to retaliate something when there’s a thump as Eileen rests her head against the side of Baby. “Guys, can we leave already?”

Dean points at her in triumph. “See? Sh-sh-she’s w-w-wearing shorts t-t-too!”

Sam groans. “Dean, get in the fucking car.”

Dean pouts all the way to the store that they need to stop at because he and Eileen are the only ones with the appropriate footwear for a hike. He high-fives her, because they won’t have to deal with blisters and sore spots from new shoes. And then he’s back to pouting, because the moment Cas, despite his insistence that he’s an angel and doesn’t need hiking boots, starts inspecting a pair, he’s descended upon by two of the—young, pretty—store employees. Even though Cas is looking totally out of place in his suit and trenchcoat get up, they immediately start flirting with him and recommending him different pairs, and Cas, clueless chick magnet that he is, doesn’t get it. 

Eileen pats Dean’s shoulder in sympathy, and Dean clumsily signs to her that he’s gonna go buy some food and then stomps out of the store. 

There’s a 7/11 across the street, and Dean stocks up on extra batteries, sandwiches, more water, some stupid apples for Sam, and a family sized bottle of sunscreen. Dean’s stutter is kind of bad right now but the cashier doesn’t bat an eye, which is a relief because he’s so not in the mood for people being jerks about it. 

He’s just finished stashing everything into the trunk when the others are back, brand new hiking boots on their feet. Cas looks ridiculous wearing boots with slacks and a suit, and Dean’s about to tell him so because he’s still annoyed, but he never gets the chance because Cas walks right up to him and pecks him on the mouth.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous.” Cas is smiling and looking all amused, and Dean scowls at him and then at Eileen. She winks at him before going back to inspecting the map Sam and Jack have spread over Baby’s hood, which to Dean is proof enough that she clued Cas in on why Dean was pouting and stomping around. He truly is surrounded by traitors. 

“You o-o-owe m-me an-n-nother three k-k-kisses.”

Cas squints up at him, corners of his mouth still tugged up. “Do I now?”

Dean does his best to glare, feathers all ruffled from Cas’s continued amusement. 

“Yeah. Three k-k-kisses for w-w-when y-you leave, a-a-and f-f-four when you c-c-come b-back, t-to make up for l-l-leaving in the first p-p-place.” He pauses. “So t-t-technically you owe m-me  _ six _ kisses, c-cause you just w-w-walked aw-w-way.”

Cas’s voice shifts into an even deeper register, and his gaze drops down to Dean’s mouth and then back up to his eyes. 

“And since when do we have that rule? I don’t believe I was adequately debriefed about its introduction.”

Dean swallows, struggling to keep up his annoyed facade. 

“Um, since bef-f-fore I w-w-went t-to talk to Sam.”

Cas hums, making a show of mulling that over. “How strange. I recall you kissing me when you left but not when you came back. It appears  _ you _ owe  _ me _ four kisses.” 

Dean narrows his eyes and puts as much challenge into his voice as he can.

“Oh, y-yeah? C-c-come and g-get them th-then.”

Dean doesn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t Cas pulling him in by the hem of his tee, crowding him up against Baby’s side, and kissing him so long and so forcefully that Dean’s knees go weak. And then, as abruptly as Cas put the moves on him, he draws away and steps back, leaving Dean to try and chase after him with his mouth, all dazed and worked up. 

“There,” Cas says, smug if slightly breathless, “now we’re even.”

“Even? Th-that w-w-was  _ one _ k-kiss.” 

“Yes, but it lasted ten seconds. Six for the kisses I owed you and four for the ones you owed me.”

Dean gapes at him. 

“Th-that’s not how it w-w-works!”

“Well, then you should have specified that beforehand.”

There’s obviously no use arguing with Cas about this, so Dean does the next best thing. He crosses his arms over his chest, turns his head away, and pouts. Again. 

“I d-d-don’t w-w-wanna k-kiss you anym-m-more a-a-any-w-way.”

Cas hums, and Dean can see him trying to fight down a smile. “What if _ I  _ want to kiss you?”

Dean shrugs. “H-h-have a-a-at it,” he replies, trying to sound as airily as possible. “I d-don’t care.”

He gets cheek kisses then, one for each side, and one on the tip of his  _ nose, _ which is just  _ silly _ , and yet there’s no denying his blush when Cas is done. 

“Dean?” Cas's voice is low and quiet in a way that’s intimate, and his breath is hitting Dean’s mouth, short-circuiting his brain and having him blink owlishly.

“Mm?”

Cas leans back, and in a normal volume, says, “You should get in the car.” 

And with that he turns away and gets into the backseat, making Dean belatedly realize that everyone’s already seated and he’s the only one standing around like a moron. 

Cursing under his breath, blush still stubbornly staining his cheeks pink, he gets behind the wheel. He adjust his rearview mirror so he can scowl at Cas, then thinks better of it when he’s met with Cas's extremely smug expression. 

_ Fucker _ , Dean thinks. How dare he put the moves on Dean like that and then just stop and let Dean stew in his juices? That’s such a dick move. And super uncalled for. Cas was the one who owed  _ Dean _ kisses after all. 

Deans means to pout and grumble the entire way to the stupid pile of stupid rocks they’re stupid enough to want to climb, so Cas will know that Dean is really really mad at him. That plan gets derailed with the wave of contentment that washes over Dean once they reach the highway—Bob Seger is crooning from the speakers, Dean is driving his Baby while Sammy’s sitting shotgun, nose buried in the map he’s marking stuff on, Eileen is teaching Jack signs that make both of them laugh, and Cas is a steady presence at Dean’s back, humming along to  _ Fire Lake _ and looking as at peace as Dean feels. 

He’s almost disappointed when they reach the parking area about an hour later. Dean parks Baby outside of it at the side of the road since the gate will be closed at 6pm and then climbs out, warily eyeing their surroundings. The paved road that leads up to the trailhead already looks more steep than he’d like. Still, he fights Cas when he takes Dean’s backpack from him. 

“I c-c-can car-r-ry my own c-crap!”

“I don’t tire as easily and this hike will be strenuous enough for you without the additional weight. Be reasonable.”

Dean grumbles while he watches Cas effortlessly handle the heavy backpack like the show-off that he is. “I f-f-feel naked.” 

Cas squints at him, completely ignoring Dean’s perfectly valid complaints. 

“You missed a spot when you applied your sunscreen.” 

Frowning, Dean pokes at his face. “W-w-where?” 

“Right there.” Cas leans up and—sneaky fucker—pecks Dean on the mouth, and then a second time before Dean can even process what’s happening. 

“Better. Now we can go.” And then he has the gall to hold out his hand for Dean to take. 

Dean sniffs and puts on an affronted face. “I’m not some k-k-kinderg-g-gartener!”

Cas rolls his eyes, “Fine,” and then walks after where the others have already started towards the trailhead. 

After catching up with him and indulging in some more stomping and grumbling, Dean snatches Cas’s hand at the next best opportunity. Cas sighs like  _ Dean _ is the drama queen in this relationship when clearly it’s the other way around, but he does take a hold of Dean’s hand in return. 

They pass a spot with picnic tables, and after that the trail makes a series of switchbacks up the hillside through thick chaparral. When they reach the 1 mile marker, the trail bends eastward over a few reasonable hills. 

The kid is up ahead and practically bouncing along the trail like an overexcited puppy. Dean and Cas make up the rear with Sam and Eileen in the middle. Sam has his geeky face on, probably waxing poetic about the shrubbery or something. Dean can’t tell; the both of them are signing most of their conversation. When Sam doesn’t know a sign, he finger spells what he means, and then smiles all flustered when Eileen shows him what the sign is. Eileen is smiling too, something fond and hopeful in her expression, and Dean really hates that he doesn’t know what they’re talking about. 

Cas finally catches him spying, and stops Dean with a hand to his chest. 

“Let’s give them some privacy.”

“No id-d-dea what you’re t-t-talking about.”

Cas gives him a look. “You were doing the equivalent of eavesdropping.”

“I w-was not! And a-a-also, e-e-even if I w-were, th-that’s an old-der brother privil-l-lege.”

“They’re signing. You can’t understand them anyway, so you might as well leave them in peace.”

“You’re m-mean,” Dean complains. 

“Yes, Bear,” Cas says, not the least bit apologetic, and nudges Dean to get him walking again. 

And then he freezes when suddenly Jack is there, looking at the both of them in confusion. 

“Bear?”

Dean glares at Cas, who has the decency to look very chagrined. 

“Um. ‘Dear’. I said ‘Dear’.”

Jack frowns and turns to observe the landscape. 

“A deer? Where?”

The utter bizarreness of the entire exchange sends Dean into spontaneous bout of hysterical laughter that only gets worse with the flabbergasted look on Jack’s face. 

“What is so funny?” 

Dean is laughing so hard at this point it’s literally making his knees weak and he sits down on his butt in the middle of the trail. Cas is pretending to look annoyed at the hold-up but before he turns his head away Dean can see him fighting down a smile.

When Dean’s chuckles finally die down and he’s wiping at his wet eyes, Cas offers him both hands and helps him get up again. “It’s quite alright, Jack,” he says, “Dean is just in a very good mood.”

Jack beams at them. “That’s great. Sam said you hate hikes.”

“Nah,” Dean says, taking Cas’s hand again and throwing him a wink, “th-they’re not that b-bad.”

>

For a while, the trail leads them through long, flat stretches that only feature the occasional brief climb. The heat finally forces Dean to let go off Cas's hand, wiping his sweaty palm on his shorts with a grimace. Heat, he’s decided, sucks. Hand-holding is goddamn nice and the fact that something as stupid as the weather is keeping him from it is making him grumpy. 

Cas rubs Dean’s arm in comfort and makes him stop ten trillion times to drink water, and if he doesn’t sweat it all out Dean’s going to have to duck into the bushes at some point and piss like a racehorse. There better not be any snakes here. 

Jack’s bouncing up ahead again, Sam and Eileen are still lost talking about their gross crushes on each other, or maybe about rocks. Dean uses the time to catch Cas up on what happened when Sam left earlier and Dean went after him, minus the stuff Sam told Dean about him and Eileen. Talking in a way that’s at least remotely intelligible is getting increasingly difficult with the exertion of the hike and the long day, and several times Cas rubs his back and tells him to slow down and take a breath. 

Dean’s had months to come to terms with the fact that his brain doesn’t understand written words anymore and that his voice will never be what it was, but there are moments where all of it is still so fucking  _ frustrating _ . What helps is how Cas never panics or grows impatient when Dean’s new limitations make themselves known. He remains calm and steady, comforting Dean without making him feel patronized, letting Dean draw strength from him when Dean feels overwhelmed. 

Cas is squinting at Sam’s back by the time Dean’s finally finished talking and is rubbing at his jaw, waiting for his throat muscles to stop spasming. 

“In retrospect, I don’t know why I let this go on for so long instead of confronting him about it.” 

Dean shrugs. “Mayb-be it’s f-f-for th-the b-b-better. I m-mean I k-k-kind-da get why it m-m-messed him up.”

“Yeah, well, he didn’t have to be a dick about it.” Okay, yeah, Dean can’t really argue with that. He’s about to say as much when Cas suddenly shifts from disgruntled dork to pissed off badass, narrowing his eyes further and declaring, “He deserves to be punished.”

“W-w-wait, wha—”

“Sam! Hey!”

Way ahead of them on the trail, Sam stops and turns around, then motions something to Eileen and Jack, who also stop. Cas starts striding towards them with determination, leaving Dean scrambling to catch up. 

“What’s going on?” Sam asks once they’ve reached them, brow furrowed in confusion at Cas's weirdly aggressive stance, “Is something wro—”

Cas doesn’t wait for him to finish. “Watch,” he says, voice all growly and commanding, and then he grabs at Dean, taking his face in both hands, and kisses him open-mouthed and with so much force Dean stumbles into him and has to grab at Cas's forearms for balance. And Dean—Dean’s brain maybe short-circuits. The sheer passionate anger Cas is channeling into the kiss has stolen all the breath from Dean’s lungs, which might explain the lightheadedness and weak knees.   


When Cas finally lets him up, Dean’s panting and wobbly and flustered, staring at Cas with wide eyes. Cas is fixing Sam with a narrow-eyed look, while Sam looks like he’s swallowed something unpleasant but is trying to be polite about it. 

“I don’t understand,” Jack is saying, looking between the both of them in confusion. “Are you teaching him how to kiss?”

Dean and Sam both choke at that but Cas isn’t fazed. “Oh, I’m teaching him a lesson alright.”

Eileen makes a face like she can’t believe she’s climbing a mountain with three  _ complete _ idiots and turns to keep walking, adjusting the hat she’s wearing as protection from the sun. Man, Dean should’ve brought his Stetson. 

Cas grabs Dean’s hand, growls, “Let’s go”, and then proceeds to drag Dean after him along the trail, leaving a thoroughly embarrassed Sam behind. 

Embarrassing Sammy is usually Dean’s top favorite past time, closely followed by watching movies with Cas, but he’s still reeling from the way Cas  _ manhandled _ him into position and basically attacked his mouth. That was—fuck, that was hot. They should try that again. But slower, and maybe, like, in private. 

They’re past the two mile marker by now, and hit one of the first really steep hills, after which the trail descends again. They pass a few oak trees, the first time there’s anything but gangly shrubbery that offers zero shade, and cross a small wooden footbridge spanning a very narrow creek bed. The trail climbs upwards again after, and it’s just—fucking  _ bullshit _ . Dean’s boots have good traction but the trail is rockier and more eroded than before, and he can already tell that his knees will hate him a lot after this. The kid is like fricken Legolas, already almost all the way to the top, and Sam and Eileen aren’t far behind. Despite how much she hates the heat, Eileen is conquering the damn mountain like a trooper. 

“ _ Fuck _ ! God d-d-dammit.”

Dean stops to take a brief break,  _ again _ , leaning over and bracing himself on his thighs while Cas hovers beside him. It’s not so much the heat, though Dean does take off his sunglasses briefly to wipe the sweat away from his eyes, as it’s his body reminding him of its new limits. 

The others are waiting for them at the top. Sam is regarding Dean with worry and Dean glares at him to keep his caketrap shut. But he doesn’t fight him when Sam calls for a quick break once they reach the three mile marker. 

Dean just plops down right where he was standing, biting back a groan at how good it feels to be off his feet for a moment. Cas takes off the backpack and sits down next to him, and Dean immediately tucks his sweaty face into Cas's neck and closes his eyes. 

Cas smells like clean, warm cotton, and he’s breathing slowly and steadily like he’s been taking a relaxing Sunday stroll in a park. He loops an arm around Dean, hand resting almost possessively on Dean’s hip, and the one advantage of the heat is that nobody can tell if that makes Dean blush or not. 

Far too soon, Cas helps Dean to his feet again. “One more hill and then we take a longer break,” he promises. That wouldn’t sound too bad, except, while Dean can’t read the words on the three mile marker sign, the elevation profile speaks for itself; an arrow pointing at a little hiker icon that’s climbing a hill up a 45 degree angle. 

What the  _ fuck _ .

Mountains are bullshit. There should be laws against them, and also against trails that are extremely steep and rocky. They’re going to break their fucking necks climbing back down here in the semi-dark later. 

“You’re not going to break your neck,” Cas reassures him while he helps Dean keep his footing on the treacherous ground. “Not as long as I’m here.” 

Dean stops to catch his breath and scrapes together the energy to ask, “Y-you g-g-gonna t-t-take on a m-m-mount-t-tain f-f-for me, C-C-Cas?” 

Cas looks downright offended. 

“Of course.”

Dean winks at him, or tries to. He wants to tease Cas about what a sweet-talker he’s being, but blocks so badly he gives up. 

Cas rubs his arm when he sees Dean grimace, “You can tell me later. Please watch your feet.”

Just as Dean’s about to admit defeat and let the fucking oversized rock win, the trail turns left and levels out considerably. They arrive at a wide viewpoint area with a trail map and metal bench that Dean immediately calls dibs on. He falls onto it with a groan and decides that maybe he’s just going to stay here and wait for everyone else to do the monster killing, and then have Cas carry him all the way back down to the car. 

Sam must have affected Eileen and Jack with his gross back-to-nature vibes, because they sit down on uncomfortable looking boulders instead of the bench, which suits Dean just fine. Cas sits down next to Dean and starts rummaging through Dean’s backpack, which reminds Dean that there’s food in there. 

“F-f-feed m-me, S-S-Seym-mour.” 

Cas bats Dean’s hands away. “Be patient, Dean.” 

Dean pouts. “That’s m-m-my food-d-d. _ I _ b-b-bought it.”

“And I carried it.” 

“C-c-cause you w-w-wouldn’t l-l-let me!”

Dean wants to argue more but Cas has found the sandwiches now. Dean snatches one and takes a huge bite. Mmm, turkey. 

Cas sighs in defeat. 

“Should’ve gone with feeding him,” Sam teases, which Dean thinks is either very brave or very stupid considering he was just on the receiving end of Cas's wrath earlier. 

Dean contemplates his sandwich for a moment. Didn’t Sam himself say Dean was too forgiving?

In a split-second decision, Dean drops his sandwich in Cas's lap, tears off a piece, puts that in Cas's hand and makes a show of eating it off of Cas's fingers. Sam makes a choking noise around the apple he’s been eating and Dean turns to him with a smirk. 

“You sh-sh-should eat s-s-slower, S-Sammy.” 

Sam is coughing and wiping his mouth, glaring at Dean. 

“Fuck you.” 

Dean winks at him and pats Cas's thigh. 

“C-c-can’t. I’m sp-p-pok-k-ken f-f-for.”

“Ugh,  _ Dean _ !”

Dean grins and accepts the next bite from Cas's fingers. 

>

The trail continues to be a fucking bitch; steep, rocky, the soil loose and untrustworthy. Dean doesn’t know how Sam can wax poetic about the view when Dean doesn’t dare look up from his feet even for a second. 

He can admit that, when they stop for breath, it does look kind of nice—as high up as they are, they have an excellent view of Barona Valley and the surrounding areas, the white boulders to the left and right of them are framed by chaparral and white sage bushes, and the few patchy gray clouds only underline their spectacular view of the sky. 

Still, mountains are going to go on his no-no list. Give him a nice lake or a forest any day, but not this bullshit. 

At least he’s got fuel in the tank now. Cas may nag him about eating slower but never about what he eats or how much. When he got done feeding Dean the first sandwich, he got started with the second, and the third, until Dean no longer felt like, well. A very hungry Bear. 

“How do we know,” the kid asks between pants for breath, “that the hide-behind isn’t sneaking right past us right now?”

“It’s possible, but unlikely,” Cas answers, shoulder brushing Dean’s. “They sleep during the day and don’t leave their den until dark, when they are close to invisible. And they are extremely fast and durable runners when they are on all fours, so the distance from here to the city would be no obstacle for it.”

Fucking finally, they reach the short side trail that branches off to the left and leads .1 mile uphill to the abandoned mine. Sam and Eileen grin and give each other a thumbs-up. Dean leans his weight on his thighs and takes a breather. 

“I h-h-hate h-h-hikes.” 

Cas rubs Dean’s back between his shoulder blades, seemingly not even minding the way Dean’s sweated through his tee there. 

“We should be quieter from now on. It should still be asleep, but they have excellent hearing.” 

Dean straightens with a grimace. 

“Do we have a pl-l-lan? C-c-cause it’s g-g-gotta be d-dark as  _ fuck _ ins-s-side that m-mine.”

Sam signs for Dean and adds, “It could also have other exits, so if we walk in, we have to be fast. Or, draw it out somehow—”

Dean nods, and Cas interrupts Sam, fixing Dean with a narrow-eyed look. 

“You will  _ not _ ,” he says decisively, “play bait.”

Dean sputters, taken aback. “I w-w-wasn’t e-e-even s-s-saying anyth-th-thing-g-g!”

“You were thinking it.”   
  
“I w-was not!” 

Sam holds up his hands. “Guys! No one will have to play bait! Well, no one living anyway. Eileen has an idea.”   


That shuts Cas up though he still has that bristly, overprotective _I will smite anything that dares come near Dean_ look about him that simultaneously ruffles Dean’s feathers and also kind of, well, _does_ _it_ for him. 

Fortunately for everyone except the hide-behind, Dean isn’t given time to dwell on that because Eileen is holding up her phone, pointing at the screen that shows what looks like a track list to Dean. She goes on to explain that she keeps a lot of audio files of different noises on her phone to lay traps for monsters so she can sneak up on them instead of the other way around. “I have a few of barking dogs. If they really see them as rivals or threats, it might be enough to make the thing come out and take a look.” 

Dean nods. Everything that means they won’t have to go in there and look for it sounds good to him. They made good time, but the shadows are already getting longer. They have to finish every single one of the bastards before the sun sets and the things slink away in the dark.

“That’s a good plan,” the kid is saying. “But won’t it sense us before we can even attack?”

“I thought Cas could take point for that,” Eileen explains. “He isn’t as easy to scent as we are.”

“I probably smell like Dean,” Cas counters. “But we can try.”

Dean blushes, unsure if Cas is teasing him or if he meant it as neutral statement. Just to make sure, he crosses his arms over his chest and pouts. “I d-d-don’t sm-m-mell.”

“Of course not,” Cas says, and now Dean  _ knows _ he’s teasing him. 

“Alright,” Sam is saying, “so we take out the big one first. But what about the ones in the mine? They could flee, or they could start attacking us before we’re ready.”

Cas explains that hide-behinds need five months to reach maturity and should still be young enough to not recognize the danger. Dean does  _ not _ like the ‘should be’ in there, but there’s only one way to find out.

“A-a-and d-don’t und-d-dere-e-estimate ‘em,” he cautions, especially in the direction of the kid. “They m-m-might not l-l-look l-l-like much, b-but e-e-even the sm-m-mall ones are str-r-ronger than us. And st-t-tandin’ up they’re ab-b-bout as t-t-tall as S-Sam. A-a-and as h-hairy.” 

Predictably, and much to Dean’s delight, Sam gives him a bitchface. 

“Really, Dean?”

“Hey, it’s t-t-true.” 

Everyone else is ignoring them and already starting down the side trail leading to the mines. Sam shoots Dean one last withering glare that Dean answers with a self-satisfied smirk, and then they follow. 

The side trail isn’t as steep as the main one and they leave the backpacks behind once they’re getting close to the mine, only keeping their weapons. Cas shrugs out of his trenchcoat and suit jacket, and rolls up the sleeves of his white dress shirt. Watching him, Dean’s mouth starts to feel as dry as the ground he’s been stomping over all day, and he busies himself with checking, again, that he’s got his silver knife and that his gun’s all loaded up with silver bullets. 

They will have to be quiet for the last stretch of the way and then split up during the fight, so Dean makes sure to get his three goodbye kisses now. 

“A-a-and f-f-four w-when you get b-b-back,” he reminds Cas.

“I know the rules, Dean.”

“J-just m-m-makin’ sure.”

“You’ll get your kisses once we’ve killed all of them.” There’s a promise evident in Cas's tone and that mollifies Dean. Cas flips his angel blade and then turns to stride down the rest of the path in a move that would look showy on anyone else but just looks natural on him. Or, well, maybe Dean is a little bit biased. 

He’s about to follow when he notices Sam looking at him weirdly, like his face can’t decide whether he’s amused or disturbed. 

“W-w-what?”

“Nothing, just… you guys got kiss rules for goodbyes and stuff?” 

Dean narrows his eyes at him. 

“Th-thought you said-d-d you’d b-be c-c-cool ab-bout us n-n-now.”

Sam holds his hands up. “Hey, I’m not judging.” The corner of his mouth twitches upwards into a smile. “It’s kind of cute actually.” 

Dean pouts and Sam nudges him with his shoulder while they walk. 

“‘M not c-c-cute.”

“Of course not. You’re big and mean.” 

Dean nudges Sam back.

“Fuck y-y-you.”

They almost nudge each other off the trail. 


	4. Chapter 4

The steel fence surrounding the entrance area to the three mine shafts looks undisturbed, but a hide-behind could easily slip through the gaps in it. Still, there’s no sign of habitation anywhere, and Dean fervently hopes the thing is just smart about hiding and they didn’t climb this stupid rock only to come back empty-handed.

Eileen is creeping forward carefully and places her phone behind a boulder several feet away from the fence. The barking starts a moment later, and she quickly retreats back to her hiding place.

Dean doesn’t have a problem with dogs as long as they’re friendly, but hearing the angry barking and growling while not _seeing_ anything hits a little close to some really unpleasant memories. It’s been long enough that the reminder doesn’t evoke crippling fear, but his heart picks up speed and his grip on his knife tightens.

For a drawn-out moment, nothing happens. Dean tries to keep an eye on all three of the mine shafts and the surrounding area, and with every passing minute he grows more tense. He’s starting to think that the thing either isn’t rising to their bait or it’s not a hide-behind at all, when he becomes aware of movement in the corner of his vision. He focuses on the shaft that’s on the very left, narrowing his eyes, and a shiver races down his spine.

It’s hard to convince his brain that what he’s seeing isn’t just a trick of the retreating light. Staring at the mine entry, it’s like a part of the lengthening shadows has chosen to detach itself from the rest and is now moving out of the mine. Its blackness seems to swallow all the light that falls on it and it’s difficult to look at it directly. One moment it’s like the shadow of a snake, sliding from one stone to the next, and then it’s massive and broad like the shadow of a boulder.

It only comes out of hiding once it’s located the source of the barking; seeming to morph into existence from one moment to the next. It’s on all fours, and Dean guesses standing up it’d be about seven feet tall. But even now that it looks and behaves more like a dog, something about the way it moves is just _wrong_. It’s like a snake lives under its skin, and the look in its eyes is far too intelligent; black eyes narrowing in suspicion as it closes in on the boulder behind which the phone lies. Sniffing the air, it growls; deep and angry like thunder rolling in.

Cas is coming up behind it, feet silent, angel blade held high and ready to strike. Dean’s grip on his knife tightens as he gets ready to come out of hiding. They just need one opening, one moment of distraction.

The hide-behind whirls on Cas, growl turning threatening, head drawn back like a snake about to attack. Darkness seems to ripple as its fur stands on end and Dean doesn’t wait to see if Cas's blow lands. The others follow his lead and a beat later they’ve got the thing surrounded and then Dean doesn’t have time to think anymore, just to react instinctively.

The son of a bitch has risen to stand on its hind legs. Its unnaturally thin body sways back and forth like a dead tree branch, towering over them, staring them down. It oozes _wrongness_ in a way that despite everything Dean’s faced in his life has his heart pound and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Then it lunges, and Dean shoves his fear aside and stands his ground.

The bastard is fast, and it figures out quickly that Sam and Cas are its biggest threats, as they are the ones matching it the most closely in height and strength, respectively. Too busy dodging fangs and a maw filled with needle-sharp teeth, none of them have managed to land any lethal hits by the time it goes for what it figures to be the weakest link.

It feigns an attack at Cas and then goes after the kid, who Cas had been shielding until now. With only seconds to react, Dean shoulders Jack out of the way and then the next thing he knows his back hits the ground hard. Claws dig into his chest and his right arm is trapped, so he does the next best thing and fumbles for a rock with his left that he slams against the thing’s head as hard as he can.

The noise it makes in response sounds eerily like high-pitched human laughter, echoing off of the boulders and the side of the mountain where the shadows are getting longer and deeper by the minute. And then someone—Cas?— _bodily_ rips the thing off of Dean. Rolling onto his side, Dean starts coughing as breath rushes back into his lungs. He struggles to get his legs under him and then Sam is there, hauling him to his feet.

“You good?”

Dean just nods and waves him off.

The hide-behind has one of their knives stuck in its left leg. The injury barely seems to slow it down, but it finally is no match for Cas's fury. Angel blade buried to the hilt in its chest, it goes down in a heap and with an ugly sound like nails on cardboard, making everyone except Cas and Eileen wince and belatedly cover their ears.

Cas rips his blade free, then wipes it clean on the hide-behind’s fur. He’s breathing hard and there’s dust smudged up his pants legs, but that’s it. Everyone else looks a lot more roughened up, though nothing that requires immediate attention. Dean’s leg is bleeding sluggishly where he cut it on a rock going down, the claw marks on his chest burn and his ribs are definitely bruised, but it’s not so bad that he can’t fight, so he decides he’s good to go.

Maybe he should have factored Cas into that decision.

Straightening, Cas looks around like he’s securing a perimeter to make sure none of the things used the distraction to sneak up on them, and then, eyes narrowing, he zeros in on Dean. Feeling like his hand got caught in a cookie jar he didn’t even know existed in the first place, Dean freezes halfway on his way to the fence and the mine shafts, and Cas crosses the distance between them with determined strides.

When he reaches to touch Dean’s forehead, Dean shies away, scowling.

“S-s-save y-your m-m-moj-j-jo. ‘S j-just sc-c-crapes.”

Cas doesn’t budge.

“You’re limping and you’re having trouble breathing.”

Dean keeps glowering at him and Cas sighs.

“I know how much I can spare, Dean. Let me.”

Cas is being fucking bossy, again, but he’s also maybe sort of right, and Dean can appreciate that Cas doesn’t remind him of his promise to be careful and let Cas help.

Dean steps forward into Cas's touch and Grace tingles through him, mending the worst of the cuts and bruises. A thumb strokes Dean’s cheek and then Cas withdraws his hand. When Dean blinks open his eyes, Cas is already on his way towards the metal fence where the others seem to be debating the best way to get past the fucking thing.

While the fence is not particularly high Dean is really not looking forward to climbing it, but to his luck, it turns out there was the as of yet unknown option of Cas taking hold of two of the bars and just _bending_ them aside until there’s room enough for them to walk through. It’s a good thing Dean’s so exhausted, or the casual display of strength would be giving him all sorts of very distracting ideas.

“There,” Cas says, “I’ll bend it back when we’re done.” He strides through the opening and Dean follows, sending the others a smug look that earns him an exasperated eye-roll from Sam.

He’s feeling less smug when they stand in front of the entry to the left mine shaft. The sun is setting, painting the boulders a deep reddish orange, making the darkness in front of them appear like a chasm.

Sam is handing out glow sticks to hang around their necks, and the mere sight of the things is enough to make Dean’s stomach churn with the memories they’re dragging to the surface. When Sam hands Dean’s glow stick to him, Dean fixes him with a stern look.

Holding up his hands, Sam has the gall to smile. “Got it”, he says, sounding entirely too unconcerned. “No dying.”

Dean scowls and makes sure to enter the mine shaft before him. Not that it did much good the last time they entered a place like this.

Cas sticks to his side like glue. Dean would rather Cas stick to _Sam’s_ side like glue, but he knows there’s no fighting Cas on this, and Dean was the one who promised to stay close. He’s just going to have to watch Sam’s back while Cas watches his.

So far, their flashlights have hit nothing but stone and debris. It makes sense that the thing wouldn’t nest right at the entry, but the farther they need to go into the mine, the more at a disadvantage they are. Not to mention the possibility of the damn thing just crashing down around them. Dean’s anything but a fan of enclosed spaces, even with an exit nearby.

They round a corner, and the mine shaft branches off in two different directions before them. He can’t make out much of a difference with his flashlight, but there’s the faintest hint of a breeze coming from the left one. Figuring the thing would prefer fresh air, and that a breeze means there must be another exit at the end of that branch, Dean leads the others down that way.

He’s barely walked three feet when the smell hits him. It’s not the stomach turning stench of rotting remains, but still carries that certain sweetness of death. Slowing down but not stopping, he lets his flashlight wander over the walls of the mine.

Five more feet, the shaft widens slightly, and the light hits a pile of something that makes Dean stop dead in his tracks, holding up a hand to stop the others. It’s not debris, and it’s not bones either. It looks like a disgusting mix of everything the bastards couldn’t digest: clothes, hair, finger nails, a few belongings like phones and jewelry.

Beside him, Cas tenses. Dean looks to the right towards where Cas is aiming his flashlight at the opposite wall. On a nest of branches, a dark mass is wriggling, twisting, swaying. As the light hits it, it starts to make confused chirping noises. Then the mass splits into two, three, four, until finally, six pairs of eyes are staring at them. The chirping turns into threatening growls and then pure chaos breaks out as all of them attack at once like they’ve got some kind of hive mind. 

They didn’t even need to have worried about the things making a run for it because despite only coming up to about Dean’s chest, they show no fear, only relentless aggressiveness. Dean can barely even see what he’s fighting, glow sticks and flashlights only able to do so much. He tries to get a grip on the thing, but its furs slips through his fingers like water. Deciding on a different attack, he lets it back him up against the wall of the mine, lets it come in close. Lets it think it’s won.

A jaw instantly goes for his throat, but he blocks it with his left, teeth ripping into his forearm with needle-sharp pain, and then he’s sinking his knife into its heart and the hide-behind crumbles at his feet.

Panting heavily and sagging against the rough stone, Dean’s heart almost sets out when, in the flickering, dim light, he sees one of the things climbing up the wall and making to attack Sam from behind while he’s locked in a fight with one of its siblings. Before he can even yell a warning, Eileen has already noticed the danger, is dragging the thing back down by its leg.

He doesn’t see if she manages to stab it. Something _slams_ into his side, jaws snapping, forcing him to stumble back from the wall. The string that held the glow stick around his neck snaps and it falls at his feet.

Either it’s the sixth of the things or there was another one lurking nearby they didn’t notice. It keeps crowding into him, trying to separate him from the others. The further away he gets from the others, the darker it becomes, and the more advantage the thing gains. Weighing the bastard’s intelligence and speed versus its inexperience and bloodlust, Dean feigns a stumble, goes down on one knee, then rams his knife into its chest when it lunges and cuts upward until he pierces the heart.

There’s an agony-filled howl that abruptly cuts off, and warm blood flooding over Dean’s hands where both of them are holding onto the hilt of his knife. He stumbles to his feet. There’s ringing in his ears and a tightness in his chest and it’s hard to remember where he is.

Fuck, no. _No_ —

“Dean? Dean!”

The dark haze around him suddenly gets pierced by erratically moving light that hones in on him, making him blink and turn his head away.

“Dean!”

There are hands on his shoulders, steadying him, eyes that are trying to catch his confused, wandering gaze. Another pair of hands patting him down, “—not his blood, Cas,” and the hold on his shoulders tightens.

“Dean! Can you hear me?”

Dean wants to say yes, but it’s hard to remember how to do that or even concentrate on it. His reality wavers between his bloodied hands that he’s staring at, and a vision of a strapped down and screaming creature, of a chalice with glowing liquid, of burned out eyes. He starts shaking.

“—got this, just get him out of here.”

Someone starts walking him forward, strong grip around his back catching him every time he stumbles. All sense of time is lost on him, and there’s a hitching, wheezing sound in his ears like someone having trouble breathing. Finally, the darkness around the beam of light that’s somewhere to his left transforms into something softer, more blue than charcoal black. The vision of the torturous experiments he’d witnessed faded away at some point, but he still feels outside of himself, confused and exhausted.

He’s walked a few more paces and then gently but firmly guided to sit down. There’s still rushing in his ears, and the shaking gets worse again when he realizes that whoever was with him has left. It’s all he can do to hang on until they’re back.

“I’m here, I’m here.”

Something that glows faintly is hung around his neck, bumping softly against his chest. Then someone gently takes Dean’s hands in theirs and pours water over them, starts cleaning them off with a strip of cloth. The cleaner his hands become, the calmer Dean gets. Blinking, he can see now that it’s Cas crouched before him, tending to him. It’s not as dark as he thought; he can still make out at least the shapes of their surroundings, and only a few stars are visible yet.

A dull, familiar pounding is starting in his head.

He must have made some kind of noise because Cas looks up at him. “Hey,” he says, his smile soft but his eyes worried. There’s a bruise on his temple and blood splattered over his shirt. He takes Dean’s face in his hands and, slowly, gently, presses four kisses against his mouth, not seeming to mind that Dean can barely kiss back.

“Welcome back.” The words are said with so much care, so much relief, that tears wells up in Dean’s eyes.

Cas is rummaging through what looks like Dean’s backpack, then presses a bottle into Dean’s hand. “Drink this.” It’s juice, and it’s _warm_ , which is horrible. Dean’s certain he didn’t put any juice in his backpack, which means Cas must have smuggled that in there, like a—like a smuggler.

Dean forces some of it down, hands Cas the bottle back, and then slumps forward and rests his head on Cas's shoulder. Cas's arms come up to hold him, and Dean exhales shakily.

“Sor-r-r-ry.”

“What for?"

“Prom-m-mised.”

He can feel Cas shake his head. “It’s not your fault, Dean.”

Cas starts stroking down Dean’s back and they stay like that until the others stumble out of the mine. Sam comes over to them and Dean notices with relief that he doesn’t move like he’s injured, just tired.

“Hey, Cas,” he says, “we could use some help hiding the body of the big one.”

Cas draws back from Dean but keeps a hand on his arm. “Of course. How’s Jack?”

“Mosty fine but I think he sprained his wrist when he fell.”

“I’ll see to him.” Cas meets Dean’s eyes, checking if Dean’s good for now, then gets off the ground. 

Sam crouches down next to Dean.

“How you feeling?”

Dean tries a cocky grin, though he can tell it’s pretty weak.

“P-p-peach-ch-chy.”

Huffing out a breath of laughter, Sam shakes his head.

“And here I was thinking we’d have to carry your lazy ass down this mountain after all,” he teases.

“ _B-B-Baby y-you a-a-ain’t seen n-n-nothing yet_ ,” Dean shoots back, and Sam snorts and then grimaces.

“You know how wrong that sounds when you say that to me, right?”

Mock-offended, Dean scowls at him. “Th-that’s one of th-the o-o-only s-s-songs I c-c-can still s-s-sing a-a-at l-l-least the chorus of with-thout soundin’ st-t-tupid. L-l-let me h-have th-that.”

Sam looks dubious.

“You know he sang the song like that to make fun of his speech impaired brother, right?”

Dean shrugs. “S-so? I have a st-t-tutter and I’m rec-c-claiming th-that song to m-m-make fun of _y-y-you_.”

Sam snorts again but he’s smiling.

“Sounds fair.” He points a thumb behind himself. “If you’re good to wait here, I’m gonna go help the others.”

Dean waves him off. It irks him that he has to sit here while everyone else does all the work, but he’s going to need every last bit of strength to make it back to the car. It gets progressively darker while he waits, and chillier. The others have turned their flashlights on when they get back about fifteen minutes later, and Dean shakily rises to his feet.

Sam leads them back the way they came, Dean and Cas making up the rear. Cas keeps a hand on Dean’s arm, ready to catch him every time he stumbles. Everyone’s quiet, flashlights pointed at their feet, focused on every step. Dean’s knees are seriously hating climbing down the steepest parts of the trail, the pain joining the pounding in his temples. The temperature is dropping and he’s starting to shiver despite the exertion.

“Cas?”

“Hm?”

“‘M c-c-cold.”

Cas sighs like he wants to say ‘I told you so’ but Dean’s in such a pathetic state that he refrains.

“We’re almost at that viewpoint area, we can stop there.”

When they reach it, Cas puts Dean’s backpack down, and he must have smuggled even more stuff in there than Dean thought because he somehow conjures up what looks like Dean’s purple flannel. Dean puts it on and is still cold, so Cas takes off his suit jacket and trenchcoat that he’d put back on when they retrieved their stuff, and bundles Dean up in them.

“Better?”

Dean looks down at himself and at his outfit illuminated by the glow stick resting on his chest.

He frowns. “Yeah, b-but now I l-l-look st-t-tupid.”

Cas rolls his eyes.

“There’s not even anyone around to see you.”

Dean sniffs, unwilling to concede Cas's point but too tired to keep bickering. It’s kind of strange to wear Cas's coat, and also kind of nice. Like getting hugged by him, only not tightly enough.

Cas picks up the backpack again and they return to the trail.

“A-a-and you c-c-can’t w-w-watch my butt anym-m-more l-l-like this.”

“Obviously I watched your butt the entire time while we climbed up here earlier,” Cas shoots back, not even trying to sound sincere. “I think I will survive being deprived of the view for a few hours.”

Dean grumbles but has to direct too much attention on his footing again to be able to complain about Cas's lack of appreciation.

It’s night by now, but not as dark as it could be with the sky free of clouds and the moon almost full. The lack of bright light at least helps a little with Dean’s pounding head.

It’s been a long time since it was just Dean and Sam and Baby, parked at the side of the road, Dean and Sam sitting on Baby’s hood, watching the stars. Dean’s surrounded by his family now, and the sky is breaktaking, but he doesn’t dare take his eyes off of the treacherous ground. It’s not until they’ve fought their way up a very steep hill and Sam calls a stop so they can all catch their breath, the kid crouching down to fix a lace that had come undone, that Dean gets a good look at the tapestry of stars spread out above them.

When the others descend the hill Dean makes to follow but notices that Cas has lingered, head tipped back, staring upwards.

“You know,” Cas says, his tone warm and intimate like they’ve been having a conversation the entire time they walked silently at each other’s side. “I started calling you Bear because of how grumbly and grumpy you are when woken or hungry. But there’s another reason.”

Cas sets Dean’s backpack down. He turns his flashlight off and then reaches over and turns Dean’s off as well, only the glow sticks around their necks remaining to illuminate the space between them. Putting a hand on Dean’s shoulder, Cas steps close, and points upwards. Following the line of his finger, Dean finds one of the very few constellations he knows.

“Ursa Major—the Great Bear. Home of the what you now call the Big Dipper, though it has had many names, most of them long forgotten. Since the beginning of mankind, it has been used for navigation.”

Dean wants to ask where Cas is going with this, but something in Cas's voice arrests him, makes him keep his eyes trained on the night sky. There’s the wisdom of about 390 million years in Cas's words and tone, but also something else, something quiet and honest and fragile—something for when it’s just the two of them.

“Do you see the two stars at the outer edge of the dipper’s bowl? Connect them, then extend the line above the bowl, and you find Polaris, the North Star, at about five times the distance between the two stars. No matter where the Great Bear is in the sky, these two stars always point to Polaris, helping the lost find their home.”

Staring at them, something catches in Dean’s throat. He’s not even sure he knows what Cas is saying, but he can’t be worthy of it, instinctively shying away.

“And, um.” Suddenly it’s Cas who sounds downright shy. “If you imagine a line stretching along the handle of the dipper, it leads to the constellation of the Herdsman and a star you call Arcturus, which is Ancient Greek for ‘guardian of the bear’, as he is the Great Bear’s keeper, the one keeping watch over him.”

Cas doesn’t meet his eyes when Dean looks at him, shifting on his feet as if embarrassed, a defensive look on his face. “I realize this sounds—sappy,” he says, sounding frustrated, like he can’t find the right words. “But I—”

He turns to Dean and folds him into his arms, holding on tight, and Dean is helpless to do anything but grip him back, heart pounding, his knees weak for reasons entirely unrelated to the gruesome climb up the hill they’re standing on.

“I love you—so much. _So much_ , Dean.”

Cas's voice is raw with emotion, and Dean fists his hands into the back of his shirt. It’s not the first time Cas has told Dean this, but it still strikes Dean to his core, leaves him light-headed and wobbly-lipped and vulnerable.

“Sa-a-am-m-me,” he gets out, shakily, knowing he’d block if he tried to say more. It feels lacking, but Cas doesn’t seem to think so. He squeezes Dean tighter for a moment and then they just hold each other, gently rocking from side to side. The stars are blurring in front of Dean’s eyes so he closes them, lets himself lean on Cas until finally, the others call for them, and they have to break apart and come back to the here and now.

Dean grabs Cas's hand on the descent, and even once the trail levels out, neither of them lets go.

>

Leaning his head on her roof, Dean sinks against Baby with a groan.

“I’m never w-w-walking ag-g-gain. Anyw-w-where. I g-g-got my b-best girl t-to g-g-get me places, right B-B-Baby?”

“When you’re done sweet-talking your car, give me the keys.”

Dean digs through his pocket without lifting his head and hands the keys over to Sam. He’s beat; he spent the last hour or so stumbling along the trail in an exhausted haze, the pounding in his temples has worsened, and he just wants to escape into sleep.

Cas sits down in the middle of the backseat, the kid to his left. Dean plasters himself to Cas's other side, resting his head on Cas's shoulder and immediately closing his eyes. The last thing he’s aware of is Cas putting his arm around him and the car rumbling to life under them, and then he’s out.

He only barely wakes when, an indefinite amount of time later, he’s lifted out of the car by Cas. Resting his head on Cas's chest, Dean lets himself be carried inside, uncaring of anything except not having to open his eyes or move an inch, floating in a state of semi-sleep. Despite the exhausting day they’ve had, Cas is carrying him like it’s no effort at all. “You’re s-so strong-g-g,” Dean sighs adoringly.

There’s a snort, and then Sam saying, “Yeah, he’s gone.” A click, Sam and Cas wishing each other goodnight, and then Dean is put down on a nice, soft surface. Cas is tugging his boots off his feet, but all Dean’s body cares about is that he’s horizontal, and he’s out again almost instantly.

The next time he comes to, he’s sitting upright in bed, his heart is racing, his face is wet. Through the rushing in his ears, he can hear his own fractured voice, endlessly repeating the same thing, and Cas trying to calm him down.

“—sor-r-ry, ‘m s-s-sor-r-ry, I’m s-so _sor-r-ry_.”

There’s blood on his hands, he can _feel_ it, needs to get it off. He scratches at his skin and then hands seize his, stopping him, squeezing with enough force that it doesn’t hurt but he can’t easily get out of the grip either.

“—sor-r-ry—”

“Dean! He’s gone. Michael’s gone. You didn’t do those things, _he_ did. Your hands are clean. You need to calm down now.”

Breath hitching, Dean manages to open his eyes. He’s greeted by the blurry sight of Cas, holding Dean’s hands and staring at him in concern.

“...C-C-Cas?”

Shoulders slumping in relief, Cas lets go off Dean’s hands and folds Dean against him. Dean tries to apologize again but Cas shakes his head, shushes him. “It’s not your fault, Dean. It’s not your fault.” Dean buries further against him and Cas holds him tighter, not seeming to care about the tears and snot Dean’s smearing into his neck.

They stay like that until Dean’s heart rate settles and he starts to shiver. Cas helps him out of his sweat-soaked tee and into a fresh one, and lets Dean fall into an exhausted slumber against him. When Dean wakes several hours later, his internal clock tells him it’s about noon, and his migraine has gotten bad enough to make him nauseous. He drifts in and out of sleep, and he tries to tell Cas that he doesn’t have to stay cooped up with Dean the entire day, but Cas isn’t having it. He fires up Dean’s laptop and cruises Netflix with Dean curled up beside him, and while he can’t do anything for Dean’s pain except knock him out when it gets too bad, it still helps Dean not to be alone while he suffers through the worst of it.

Judging by how little light is filtering through the blinds, it’s getting dark again the next time Dean wakes up for real. The pounding in his head is less but his body is aching all over and he feels totally gross, covered in dried sweat and with faint traces of blood still caked under his fingernails. He’s dazed from the pain and from two flashbacks in a row and so deeply exhausted he has no idea how he’s going to get into the shower, much less stand upright under the spray and clean himself.

Cas watches Dean struggle to swing his legs over the edge of the bed and then resolutely tells him to stay put while he draws him a bath. He helps him hobble to the bathroom, helps him out of his clothes, not that Dean’s wearing more than a tee and boxer shorts. Cas left the door open but didn’t turn on the light, so while it’s fairly dark inside the bathroom, Dean still blushes when Cas tugs his underwear down his legs. This is not how he imagined being naked in front of Cas for the first time.

“I won’t look,” Cas says, like he’s sensing Dean’s embarrassment. He keeps him steady, and then Dean’s sinking into the hot water with a groan of contentment, letting his head rest against the edge of the tub, closing his eyes. It’s not a bubble bath, but the water smells faintly and soothingly like sandalwood and something citrus-y. Cas lets him soak for a while, rummaging around in their room. When he comes back, he takes Dean’s toiletry kit off the shelf, and Dean makes grabby hands for his shampoo bottle.

Cas crouches down in front of the tub though, instructs Dean to hold still and close his eyes while he pours water over his head and then gently washes his hair. It’s like getting a head massage, and Dean moans with how good it feels. He slurs something that’s supposed to mean _this is nice_ but comes out so jumbled it makes Cas chuckle.

“Five more minutes, and then I’ll come get you,” Cas tells Dean once he’s washed away all the suds. “Try not to fall asleep again yet.”

Dean hums an affirmative, leans his head against the edge of the tub again, and is out almost instantly.

He’s decidedly grumpy when Cas comes back and wakes him and drains the nice hot water out of the tub. Dean’s too tired to complain so he just scowls while Cas helps him douse off the soap and towel himself dry. He gets him a fresh tee and underwear—at the rate Dean’s going through tees he’s going to have to swing by a laundromat soon—and then Dean falls headfirst back into bed.

The sheets and covers smell fresh and don’t feel tacky with sweat, so Cas must have asked for new ones and then made the bed. Dean wants to thank him but he’s asleep again before he can even try to wrestle his mouth into obeying him.

The smell of something delicious rouses him again a while later, and his stomach growls audibly before he’s even fully awake. Dean has barely had anything but water over the last 24 hours, too nauseous from the pain to stomach anything more substantial than some crackers Cas had forced on him, and he’s _starving_. Blindly, he fumbles out a hand and tries to grab whatever is smelling so nice, and then frowns when he’s only met with empty air.

From somewhere behind him, he can hear Cas chuckle.

“I know you’re hungry, but you need to sit up a little.”

Dean doesn’t see how that’s necessary but he pushes himself up and blearily looks around for the food.

Cas is sitting on the edge of the bed, looking all amused. There’s a steaming plate on his knees and Dean doesn’t even care what it is or where Cas got it from, all he cares about is getting it in him. He sits up against the headboard and then makes grabby hands for his food.

It’s a nice, rich stick-to-your-ribs stew with beef and vegetables, and Dean inhales it as fast as he can. It’s soothing to have that gnawing feeling of hunger melt away, but eating is also making him drowsy again a lot sooner than he’d like. Cas watches him fight against the rising tiredness, then nudges him to make room against the headboard and takes the spoon from him.

“C’mon,” he says, “I’ll do the choo choo train.”

Dean glares but then there’s a spoonful of food in front of him and he decides eating is more important than complaining about being baby-talked.

When the plate is empty, Dean leans his head on Cas's shoulder and closes his eyes. He’s getting real sick and tired of barely being able to do anything but sleep, but he’s so tuckered out he doesn’t even have the energy to mope about it.

It’s fully dark the next time he wakes, but the curtains are drawn to the side to let the moonlight in. There’s a nice cool breeze coming in through the tilted window and Dean can see a few stars. He’s lying curled up against Cas with his head on his thigh while Cas is leaning against the headboard, a hand resting on the curve of Dean’s side.

Dean blinks at the stars and then sighs and nuzzles his cheek against the fabric of Cas's slacks.

“Hey,” he mumbles, wincing when it comes out weak and raspy.

“Hello, Dean. How are you feeling?”

Taking stock for a moment, Dean concludes that his head is a lot better and while he’s still exhausted, he at least doesn’t feel like he got run over by a tank any longer.

“Bet-t-ter. Head’s not spl-l-litting open a-a-anym-m-more.” Dean rolls onto his back so he can keep his head in Cas's lap but also look at him where the moonlight is illuminating his face and half his chest. “How ab-b-bout Sam a-a-and th-the oth-thers, they ok-k-kay?” He rubs the backs of his hands over his eyes and blinks up at Cas.

“Resting. Eileen and Jack have really taken to the pool. There are giant egg- and bacon-shaped floatables.”

Dean snorts.

“Sam-m-my?”

“The last I saw him he was lounging in a pool chair, updating the archives.” Cas watches him with a soft look in his eyes. “He’s alright, Dean. He seems a look more at peace since you two spoke.”

Dean just hums at that, soothed by the knowledge that Sam’s okay.

“They’re worried about you, though.”

Dean shrugs with one shoulder, of half a mind to wave away the concern. It’s still a battle, sometimes, to let others take care of him and not give in to that part of him that screams it should only ever be the other way around.

“Don’t g-g-gotta. Yeah, ‘m b-b-banged u-up b-but I got _y-y-you_.”

“Dean, that’s not—”

“ _Cas_. I’m t-t-tryin’ t-to thank you he-here, man.” Cas has carried Dean’s chewed-on ass around, dealt with Dean’s episodes, stayed with him even while Dean was doing his best impression of a lumpy sack of potatoes. It’s been years since Cas was powerful enough that healing people didn’t drain him, but he still gave Dean what he could. Even the teeth marks on Dean’s forearm, while still visible, look weeks old and faded.

Cas softens at that.

“You never have to thank me for protecting you, Dean.”

The warmth in Cas's tone makes Dean smile.

“I d-don’t m-m-mean j-just that.” Dean puts his hand over Cas's hand where it’s resting on Dean’s hip, squeezing briefly. “Th-thanks for—y-you know, th-this.”

“Dean—”

“No, s-s-seriousl-l-ly. I know you’re not t-t-touchy f-f-feely l-l-like me, so. This m-m-means a l-l-lot.”

Cas sighs and then moves his hand to lace their fingers together.

“You’re making it sound like it’s a burden to take care of you like this. It’s _not_ ; it never could be, and I promise you here and now that I will never deny you physical affection. I may need some guidance sometimes, but that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy what we’re doing.” 

Dean needs a moment to let that sink in and Cas must understand because he falls silent and rubs a thumb over the back of Dean’s hand.

They share a long moment of comfortable quiet before Cas speaks up again.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sh-sh-shoot.”

“You mentioned that you get why you and me—why Sam reacted the way he did and was then confused by his own reaction. And I’m not asking you to disclose private things that he’s told you, but I. I’d like to understand.”

Dean thinks for a moment, mulling over the best to explain.

“One t-t-time w-when Sam w-was l-l-like ten,” he starts. “He got inv-v-vited to this b-b-birthd-d-day p-party. W-we were a-a-al-l-lways th-the outs-s-siders in school s-so that d-d-didn’t h-h-happen a l-l-lot. Dad wasn’t th-th-there, so I brought h-him over to the h-h-house. I w-was just g-g-gonna drop him off a-a-and then c-c-come back l-l-later, b-but the parents asked if I w-w-wanted to stay t-too.” Dean pauses and rubs at his jaw in irritation.

“There w-w-were a c-couple k-k-kids my age. I coulda pl-l-layed with ‘em, b-but. I d-d-didn’t know how. Th-they w-w-were so c-c-carefree. I didn’t know h-how t-t-to beh-h-have. So I h-h-hung with the oth-ther parents b-but when they l-l-looked at m-me, they saw a k-k-kid. It w-was awkw-w-ward as _fuck_. So I s-s-said I had homew-w-work, a-a-and I l-l-left.”

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Dean wrangles with his mouth and with the emotions the memory is dragging to the surface.

“A-a-and I guess th-that’s k-k-kinda what I w-w-was l-l-like f-f-for S-S-Sam too. Somet-t-times I w-w-was his broth-ther. Oth-ther t-times—” Dean’s throat clicks audibly as he tries to get the words out and blocks hard.

“You were his parents?” Cas finishes for him, and Dean just nods.

“I m-m-mean it’s j-j-just w-w-weird, w-when you th-think y-your p-p-parents a-a-are a c-c-certain w-w-way a-a-and then they’re not. A-a-and it’s w-w-weird w-w-watching your m-mom m-make out with someone. ‘Cept I’m not Sam’s m-mom n-now. I just w-w-was.”

Cas takes their twined hands off Dean’s hip and rests them over Dean’s heart.

“I’m sorry.”

There’s genuine sorrow in his voice, and Dean nuzzles his cheek against Cas's belly.

“D-don’t be. You’re h-h-helping.”

He’s not looking but he knows Cas is squinting at him in confusion and disbelief.

“How?”

“Well, f-f-f-or one, I can sh-sh-share with y-you l-l-like this. You know h-how o-o-often I c-c-could t-t-talk to someone with-thout f-f-fearin’ that I’m b-b-burdening ‘em? L-l-like they a-a-ain’t l-l-listenin’? Barely _e-e-ever_. So feeling-g-g h-h-heard, I c-c-can’t tell you how rel-l-lieving that is.”

Cas is silent for a moment.

“You know you do the same for me, right? When things—well, when things go bad, I feel like you’re the only being in the entire universe who I have any connection to. I know I can go to you, and you will understand.”

There’s that urge, immediately, to shy away and say something self-deprecating. Dean fights it down and Cas squeezes his hand, like he’s able to sense Dean’s internal struggle, or at least how much the words are affecting him.

“Speak-k-king of f-f-feeling l-l-listened to—you t-t-talk to Molly?”

“I texted her from your phone on the way back to the motel. She was very relieved. And sad, of course, since now, we know for sure that the people who were taken will not be coming back.”

Dean grimaces. There's not even bodies left behind they could bury, helping them mourn. No one except them and Molly will ever even know what really happened to them.

“Oh, and Eileen sent you a message.”

Cas reaches over and takes Dean's phone off the nightstand, handing it to him.

Dean and Eileen can't exactly text, so Dean's a little confused until he sees she's sent him a picture. It’s from when they drove back to the motel, and, judging from the lighting, Eileen took it when they stopped for gas. The kid and Dean are both slumped against Cas, glow sticks still around their necks, fast asleep. It’s eerie to see himself bundled in Cas's suit jacket and coat, but what really gets Dean is how content Cas looks in Baby’s backseat, watching over Jack and Dean. He’s got an arm around Dean’s back and he’s looking past him at the street lights, something peaceful in his expression that just makes Dean really happy to see.

“Send it to me,” Cas says when Dean shows it to him. “I want to use it as my wallpaper.”

“W-w-what’re you using-g-g right n-n-now?”

“A picture of the sunrise Jack sent me when we were on that case in Colorado three weeks ago.”

Dean scowls. Cas looks up from where he’s fiddling with his phone and sighs.

“You’re my lockscreen,” he says, like that’s supposed to mollify Dean.

“Oh _wow_ , y-your l-l-lockscr-r-reen, th-that’s _super_ rom-m-mantic.”

“Stop complaining. That sunrise was very beautiful.”

Dean couldn’t care less about the stupid sun but he wants to know what picture of him Cas is using. He tries to grab Cas's phone.

“W-w-wanna see!”

Cas leans back and bats Dean’s hands away.

“No.”

Dean pouts, and, when that isn’t effective, does his best pleading expression. It takes some patience on his part, but finally, Cas sighs in defeat and hands his phone over.

Dean presses the button that makes the screen light up and is met by a picture of himself in one of the armchairs in his Cave. He thinks it’s from when he’d just gotten back and was finally steady and aware enough again to actually do stuff with his family. He’s bundled up in a hoodie and a blanket and he looks kind of gaunt under them, his cheeks pale, dark circles under his eyes. The light of the TV is falling onto him, a still mostly full popcorn bowl is balanced precariously in his lap, and he’s asleep. His Stetson is sitting atop the backrest, so it must have been cowboy night.

It’s not exactly a super flattering picture, though he guesses without the context someone might look at it and think he just looks sleepy and soft.

The screen goes dark, and Dean presses the button again. He can’t be sure, but he thinks this is from before the flashbacks started, when he couldn’t bear thinking, much less talking about what he’d been through, when he was still struggling with his shattered voice and exhausted body.

“I think I needed proof,” Cas says, startling Dean. “A reminder that you were back with us, at home and safe.” Gently taking the phone out of Dean’s hand and shutting off the screen, Cas laces their fingers together again. “Michael was still out there and I was scared for you. The thought that he could get his hands on you again, especially after seeing how much you’d suffered, how much damage he did—maybe it was foolish, but I felt if I could just capture this moment, it would mean that everything would be okay again.”

Cas is looking out the window at the stars again, and something in his expression activates Dean’s instinct to calm and soothe.

“Hey,” he says, voice soft and low. “No one’s t-t-takin’ me aw-w-way ag-g-g-ain.”

“I’d like to see them try,” Cas growls, darkly, but a beat later his shoulders slump. “No, actually I would not like to see them try. I would like to see you safe, not threatened.”

Dean huffs a breath of laughter, unable to keep from smiling.

“Sap.”

It was meant to be teasing but Cas not only rolls with it, he one-ups him.

“You’re my husband, I think I’m entitled.”

Dean’s face doesn’t have any business growing that hot in reaction, so he hides it against Cas's stomach.

Cas chuckles.

“You _really_ like that.”

Dean tells him to shut up but with his mouth smashed against cotton it comes out completely unintelligible.

Cas strokes a soothing hand through his hair.

“There’s no need to feel ashamed, Dean. Obviously you associate marriage with love, romance, and permanence, all of which you have been deprived of and consequently long for, so it only makes sense that—”

“Ugh, st-t-top.” Dean comes out of hiding again, sputtering. “D-d-don’t d-do the _sh-sh-shrink_ th-thing man, it’s too fucking-g-g w-w-weird.”

“Sorry,” Cas says, a smile in his voice. “I won’t.”

Mollified, Dean settles back against him and sighs contentedly when Cas resumes stroking his hair. He floats on the simple, uncomplicated pleasure of affection until something nags at his mind that he’d been meaning to check on but then wasn’t given the chance to.

“C-Cas?”

“Mm-hm?”

“W-when you c-c-called from the sh-sh-shel-l-lter, you d-didn’t s-s-sound g-g-good. Did something-g-g h-h-happen?”

Cas makes a face like he’s chagrined.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.”

“W-w-what? Why?”

Somehow, Cas manages to look guilty and defensive at once.

“I didn’t want to worry you. I wanted to take care of you, not the other way around.”

Dean turns his head to scowl at him.

“What th-the _fuck_? D-dude, Cas, th-this is a-a-a t-t-two w-w-way str-r-reet, man.” He motions between them. “Y-you c-c-can’t j-j-just d-d-d—” His agitation makes him block, again, and he has to take a couple deep breaths to calm and center himself. Sometimes it’s downright painful when he can’t get the words out. Cas takes his hand again, squeezing it.

“Th-this h-h-has g-g-got t-to be a g-g-give a-a-and t-t-take. D-d-don’t sh-sh-shut me out. Pl-l-lease.”

Cas hesitates with his answer long enough that Dean knows they’re going to have to rehash this particular argument in the future.

“Alright. I won’t—I’ll try not do.”

It’s the best he’s going to get right now, so Dean takes it. He roots around for Cas's other hand and puts it back on his head, wriggling on the bed to get comfortable again..

“Ok-k-kay. So, what h-h-happened?”

Cas sighs and strokes his fingers through Dean’s hair as if it’s calming him too.

“Nothing happened. Everyone was exceptionally kind to us. It was just—being confronted with all that sadness? That despair? All those people in front of the shelters, desperate for safety, for answers, receiving neither. It just made me feel angry, and then helpless. They’re starving while there is enough food, and they’ve become victims of monsters they would be safe from if only given a roof over their heads and a door to close. It made me—well, it made me really really mad.”

Cas pauses to take a shuddering breath and Dean rubs his thumb over the back of his hand.

“I remember what it was like, alone on the streets, and I was a lot luckier than most of them. I just wished I could do more.”

Dean tries to hide how the reminder makes him wince, old guilt resurfacing, but Cas notices.

“Dean—”

“No, ign-n-nore me, th-this is ab-b-bout _you_ , man.”

“I will do no such thing. The context of our situation was completely different and I will not have you tell yourself it was the same. It was _my_ choice not to go straight to the bunker. And when you sent me away you didn’t do it out of carelessness or cruelty, you were being _blackmailed_ . You thought Sam would _die_ if you’d let me stay. And I was hurt at first, yes, and confused, but I forgave you the moment I learned the truth.”

Dean still can’t bring himself to meet Cas's eyes, and Cas's voice softens.

“Please let go off this guilt, Dean. There’s no need for you to keep tormenting yourself like this.”

Swallowing, Dean nods. “‘Kay.” He looks up at Cas. “You g-g-gotta t-t-take y-your own adv-v-vice, though. ‘C-c-can’t save ev-v-veryone’, right? A-a-and Cas, you k-k-killed the damn th-thing. You st-t-topped it. A-a-and for the people h-here? That d-d-does m-m-make a d-d-difference.” 

Cas is silent for a while and Dean waits him out, sensing there’s still something brewing under the surface.

“I offered Molly to try and heal her of her ailments. She declined.”

Dean wants to say that after all she’s been through, she probably can’t trust someone she doesn’t even know with something that private, but Cas is already talking again.

“She said she’s made her peace with her life, and I respect that. It just reminded me… sometimes I think about living without my Grace.”

Startled, Dean looks up at him but Cas is looking outside at the stars.

“It’s a tool, a useful one, but it’s not who I am. And I miss, I miss experiencing the world like you do. I couldn’t protect people the way I can do now, if I gave it up, so that is holding me back. But…”

Cas's hand falters, the stroking through Dean’s hair slowing to a stop.

“I’m scared, Dean. If I were to die now, I’d die an angel, and that means going back to the Empty. The thought of being trapped in that place again, with _nothing_ , and no hope of ever seeing you again—”

Dean’s heart clenches and he shifts in place, trying to catch Cas's eyes.

“Woah, C-Cas, hey. W-w-what’s all th-that t-t-talk about d-d-dyin’? Y-you th-think ab-b-bout that a l-l-lot?”

“Not a lot, just… sometimes.”

“Okay.” Dean swallows and licks his lips. “You know I’ll h-h-have y-you no matter w-w-what, r-r-right?”

That makes Cas smile a little.

“I know, Dean.”

“As f-f-for prot-t-tecting people… th-there’s someth-th-thing I b-b-been meaning-g-g t-to t-t-talk with you ab-b-bout.” Dean takes a deep breath. “I’ve b-been th-th-thinking… next t-t-time th-there’s a h-h-heavy d-d-duty c-c-case l-l-like this one, we g-g-give it t-to someone e-e-else.”

Cas goes very still.

“Dean. Are you saying—”

“I d-d-don’t mean full o-o-on ret-t-tirem-m-ment, b-but. L-l-look, I’m d-d-done su-su-sugarc-c-oatin’ th-this shit,” he gestures at himself. “I’m n-n-not a-a-at a hund-d-dred perc-c-cent anym-m-more. Like mayb-b-be not e-e-even at a sixt-t-ty. A-a-and I’m not going-g-g to b-be ag-g-gain. Ev-v-ver.” It hurts having to admit that, tears rising to his eyes and his throat threatening to close up. He has to swallow a couple times before continuing.

“I c-c-can’t handle the st-st-stress a-a-anym-m-more. I j-just c-c-can’t. I’m not s-s-sayin’ no h-h-hunting a-a-at al-l-l, b-but. N-n-nothing b-big. More d-d-downt-t-time. I m-mean we g-g-got a whole n-n-netw-w-work now. A-a-and I know S-S-Sammy is w-w-way h-h-happier handling-g-g th-that a-a-nd our arch-ch-chives than b-b-bein’ out in the f-f-field. I h-h-haven’t a-a-asked him yet, b-but I think he’d b-be good w-w-with it.”

He sniffs, his mouth trembling around the words.

“‘M tired, C-Cas. We’ve d-d-done en-n-nough.”

A tear spills over, rolling down his cheek. Dean closes his eyes and swallows hard, overcome by sadness and relief at once. A thumb rubs through the wetness under his eyes and Dean struggles to force his mouth to obey him. “B-but I g-g-get need-d-ding t-to b-be out th-there. So if y-y-you’re not ok-k-kay with—”

“I am. I won’t leave, Dean,” Cas's voice cuts through Dean’s rising fear. “I won’t leave.”

Rolling so he can hide his face against Cas's stomach, Dean loops both arms around his waist and holds on tight.

“I’ll have you, no matter what.”

Dean wants to smile and laugh, because Cas is repeating his own words back at him, and they mean so, _so_ much. Apparently he’s not done crying about this crap though, so it comes out as a sob instead. But he’s safe here, Cas is holding him, and maybe it’s okay to be a little fucked up about all of this and need to cry it out.

He doesn’t know how long he lies there, a curled-up, snotty mess, but the weight gradually eases off his chest until he feels almost light. When he can sit up, Cas hands him a tissue from the dispenser, and then Dean tucks himself close again, seeks out Cas's mouth with his.

It’s so good, warm and soft and comforting, and Dean parts his lips, presses closer—

Cas breaks the kiss with a grimace.

“I’m sorry, but your mouth tastes terrible.”

A blush rises to Dean’s cheeks and he tries to counteract it with a scowl. It’s not _his_ fault that he hasn’t been able to brush his teeth in over a day.

“Thought y-you c-c-couldn’t t-t-taste anyth-th-thing b-but molec-c-cules.”

“Well, the molecules inside your mouth are tasting terrible.”

Dean grumbles but makes his way to the bathroom.

The light makes him blink for a moment until his eyes adjust, and then he cringes. His eyes are red from crying and despite all the sleep he got, there are dark circles under them. Very thoroughly, he brushes his teeth and washes his face. The stubble makes him look worse than he feels, so he shaves it off.

His armpits smell okay but he gives them a quick wash anyway. He’s about to put the washcloth away when he hesitates.

When he goes back, they’re going to kiss, but he wants more. After all that emotional intimacy, he’s longing for some physical closeness, for comfort and for the opportunity to make them both feel good, if Cas is up for it.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

He’s just had a bath a few hours ago, so another shower feels a bit excessive. Wetting the cloth again, he just washes his junk and ass, trying not to think about how he might be acting foolishly optimistic.

When he exits the bathroom, he’s red-faced and almost stumbles over his feet. His heart is pounding and he feels awkward and shy in a way he usually never feels about the prospect of sex.

If Cas was wondering what took him so long, he doesn’t show it. He’s got his legs stretched out, ankles crossed, and is once again watching the stars. Over half their bed is bathed in moonlight, and maybe it’s how soft that’s making everything look, or maybe it’s the quiet of the night or the privacy of their room, but something makes Dean brave enough to get on the bed and climb into Cas's lap and press kisses into his mouth.

Cas's arms come up around Dean’s shoulders, holding him close, and Dean leans back to search his eyes.

“C-c-can I touch y-you? W-w-wanna,” he presses another kiss against Cas's mouth. “Wanna m-m-make you feel g-g-good.”

Cas squints up at him.

“You would like to have sex.”

That makes Dean _blush_ , of all things, and he tries to cover it up with a snort.

“Okay, yeah. B-but only if y-you—”

“Yes.”

Cas puts a hand on the back of Dean’s neck and draws him forward into a kiss that’s a lot more passionate than their gentle making-out from before and that Dean has a hard time breaking away from.

“Woah! Slow d-d-down, c-cowboy.”

Glaring up at him, Cas looks decidedly grumpy at the interruption.

“We gotta t-t-talk about th-this f-f-first, I d-d-don’t even know if th-there’s stuff you d-d-don’t l-l-like.”

Dean half expects Cas to remind him that he’s had sex all but once and his only request is not to get stabbed after, but Cas actually sobers at that.

“I don’t think I would like to have something inside me. I know it’s pleasurable, but it reminds me—I just don’t like the idea.” He pauses. “Maybe we can work up to it. Just not yet.”

Dean nods. “Alright, g-g-got it.”

“But I would not be opposed to the other way around,” Cas says, fixing Dean with a look that makes heat rise to his face again and his dick twitch in his boxers. He’s already plumping up and they haven’t even really done anything yet.

“ _Jesus_. Ok-k-kay. Mayb-b-be not tod-d-day, though.” That’s a little too much for a first time, even if Dean can’t deny the want coursing through him at the offer.

Sliding his hands down Dean’s back to settle on his hips, Cas looks up at him all smug.

“Alright. What would you like today?”

Dean leans forward to press a line of kisses along Cas's jaw.

“Sl-l-low. Ge-ge-gentle. W-wanna—mm. W-w-wanna st-t-tay right he-here.”

Still perched on Cas's illegally thick thighs, Dean scoots forward to press his growing bulge against Cas's crotch, making both of them gasp.

“You know y-you c-c-could k-k-kill a man w-with th-those b-b-babies, right?” He asks, briefly clenching his legs around Cas's thighs.

Cas looks down with a confused frown.

“You find my legs… sexy.”

Dean huffs out a breath of laughter, unable to keep from smiling.

“Yeah.” He leans in for more kisses. “Mm. A-a-and your arms a-a-and y-y-your _stup-p-pid_ big h-h-hands.”

He starts moving his hips, just small, rolling motions, and is pleased to feel Cas's dick starting to harden against him, his hold on Dean’s hips tightening.

“Dean! We didn’t— _ah_! We didn’t finish our conversation about this. I still don’t know what _you_ like and don’t like.”

Drawing back from where he’s been leaving little nibbling kisses down the line of Cas's throat, Dean forces himself to concentrate for a moment.

“Well, I d-d-don’t l-l-like t-to b-b-be touched without perm-m-mission, b-but you h-h-have it, so.” He shrugs. Something in his tone must suggest there were times when someone did not stop when he said no, and Cas is looking at him like he wants to ask about it, but Dean shakes his head. Not now.

Picking up the movements of his hips again, Dean continues, breathing the words against Cas's mouth. “I l-l-like k-k-kissing. H-hand-h-h-holding. Just lotsa t-t-touching.” He sighs, leaning his forehead against Cas’s. “Just g-g-go with what f-f-feels good, I’mma t-t-tell you if I d-d-don’t d-d-dig it.”

“Alright.” Cas's breathing has noticeably picked up and the way his voice has gotten even rougher and deeper makes Dean shiver. Hesitantly, Cas slides his hands up Dean’s sides under his tee, “May I undress you?”

Something about the way he asks is so fucking hot it makes Dean moan. The mental image of being completely laid bare while Cas is still fully clothed has heat curl low in his belly and his dick thickens further. He has a brief moment of self-consciousness when his tee is gone, because with all the resting he’s been forced to do he’s put on weight, and his thighs have gotten meatier, his belly softer and his love handles more pronounced.

Insecure, he searches Cas's eyes, but all he finds there is want and boundless acceptance. Kissing him again, the rhythm of Dean’s hips falters at the feeling of Cas's deft hands stroking down Dean’s back and up his chest, thumbs experimentally brushing his nipples. Dean breaks away from the kiss with a moan and starts fumbling with the buttons on Cas's shirt, “C’mon, you t-t-too.”

Dean takes his time, pressing kisses into each stretch of newly revealed skin, rewarded by the way Cas's hold on him tightens every time he finds a particularly sensitive spot. He’s forced to get out of Cas's lap when the friction from the clothing between them starts to border on painful. While Cas is busy getting his pants off, Dean uses the brief pause to dig the lube he keeps in there out of his bag. He’s so worked up already he almost drops the thing twice; his knees like jelly, mouth tingling, dick bobbing between his legs with each step.

Cas doesn’t look like he’s faring much better: pupils dilated, hair a mess from Dean running his fingers through it while he kissed him. Dean leaves the condoms—he’s clean, and Cas doesn’t get STD’s—and puts a towel down on the bed so they don’t ruin the sheets. After tugging off his boxers, he climbs back into Cas's lap, who immediately draws him close, and then they both gasp into each other’s mouths when their dicks touch.

Looking down, the sight that greets him is so erotic that Dean moans helplessly, blindly grabbing for the lube he’d thrown onto the bed. Dean would be turned on no matter what because this is Cas, but man, the guy has some dick on him. Thick _and_ long, making Dean salivate just from looking. One day, he’s going to sit on that thing and ride it until they both forget their names. Maybe while wearing his Stetson, just so he can annoy Cas by making a million cowboy jokes before, during, and after.

Cas makes an impatient noise when Dean checks in with him again before actually touching him, and then he groans in a way that goes straight to Dean’s own dick as Dean’s lube-slickened fingers close around him, giving a slow pull from base to tip. Dean leans back in Cas's lap so he’s pressed against Cas's raised knees, watching in something like rapture as Cas's dick hardens further from the agonizingly slow handjob Dean’s giving him, Cas's brow furrowed almost like in pain, chest rising and falling rapidly.

His own dick is throbbing with need, drooling precome along the crease of his thigh, but he denies himself for now, just focuses on Cas and lets the pleasure build. Cas's fingers dig into Dean’s hips every time Dean twists his wrist when he reaches the base, and he finally seems to remember that he does, in fact, have hands. Gripping Dean’s thigh with one, he fists the other into the short strands of hair at the back of Dean’s head, dragging him forward and into an open-mouthed kiss.

“Th-this g-g-good?” Dean asks once Cas lets him up for air, hand still slowly pumping Cas's dick, thumb teasing under the head.

“Yes, but you, _ah_ , you were too far away.”

That makes Dean smile like a dope, a warmth running through him that has nothing to do with his arousal. He shifts even closer and gets his hand around both of them, echoing Cas's moan, pleasure zinging down his spine to pool between his legs. It’s good, so good, he could totally get off on this, but he kind of—he wants—

Slowing the motion of his hand down even further, Dean forces himself to take a deep breath so his stutter doesn’t ruin this for him by making him completely unintelligible.

“C-c-can I—W-w-wanna t-t-try s-s-som-m-mthing. It’s ok-k-kay if y-y-you d-d-don’t l-l-like it.”

When Cas nods, staring at Dean like he can’t believe there could be anything better than this, Dean applies more lube to Cas's dick, making him squirm, and then lifts himself out of Cas's lap enough to guide his dick between Dean’s asscheeks.

Settling back down and shifting his legs so his thighs won’t cramp, Dean rolls his hips experimentally and Cas sucks a sharp breath in through his nose, clutching at him.

“Dean—!”

“G-g-good-d?”

“ _Yes_.”

It is; Cas's dick is gliding over his perineum, putting pressure on his prostate from the outside, the head catching on Dean’s hole every couple of strokes. Dean’s dick is getting rubbed against Cas's stomach and Cas's hips have started making little thrusting motions, his feet braced against the mattress. It’s a little uncoordinated and sloppy but that doesn’t even matter. Dean’s warm all over and he’s _wanted_ , Cas's hands are holding him in place, and the way he keeps saying Dean’s name makes him try and press even closer.

They’re more breathing into each other’s mouths than kissing, so Dean tucks his face into Cas's neck, focusing on his hips and ignoring the need in his own dick, determined to make Cas come first. Judging from the way Cas's breathing is hitching, he’s close, the rhythm of their gentle love-making shifting into something a little more frantic as he approaches his peak.

Cas clutches at Dean’s shoulders when he comes, groaning, and the feeling of him releasing wet and hot between Dean’s legs is almost enough to make Dean come too. He’s cresting, pleasure built up almost as high as it can go, but not quite there yet, whining and shifting restlessly while Cas shudders through the aftershocks, panting into Dean’s hair.

“Dean! Dean, let me—can I touch you?”

Unable to do anything but nod, Dean leans back to give Cas room, and then his mouth falls open when Cas's thick fingers close around his leaking dick. Dean realizes quickly that not only is Cas a fast learner, he’s fucking ruthless in applying his newfound knowledge. Cas presses kisses along his throat and then nudges Dean’s chin up and sucks at the pad of fat under it that Dean’s actually kind of embarrassed about, it’s just hard to remember about that when the attention paid to those sensitive areas is making his heart pound. Cas's thumb is sliding over his slit on every upstroke, making his toes curl and his balls draw up.

“C-C-Cas—”

“I’m here, Dean.” Cas's hand is cradling the back of his head, his mouth brushing Dean’s and Dean reaches for him blindly, holding on tight. “I’m here, you can let go.”

Another stroke, another, and then Dean’s mouth goes slack and he chokes on a moan as he comes in long, hard pulses that white the room out for a moment. He floats on the pleasure for what feels like a long time, soothed into relaxation by the strong arms holding him up, sheltering him.

When he comes to, his heart rate has slowed down and his lashes are wet from tears he wasn’t even aware of. Cas has shifted him a little in his lap, probably because his dick was getting over-sensitive, and he’s rubbing a hand slowly up and down Dean’s spine, rocking them from side to side a little. There’s no icky feeling of drying spunk, so Dean must have been out long enough for Cas to have used the tissues from the nightstand to clean them up. Dean’s shivering a little, which must be why Cas also draped the blanket over his back.

It’s all so incredibly caring, so protective that Dean’s eyes well up all over again.

“Dean?”

Dean moves his face away from where he had it tucked into Cas’s neck again and rests his head on Cas's chest.

“Hey,” he rasps. “Sor-r-ry. D-d-didn’t m-m-mean t-to pass out o-o-on you.”

Cas has stopped rocking them but he keeps up the soothing motion of his hand.

“It’s alright. I was a little concerned though. Has this happened to you before?”

Dean frowns, trying to get his brain into gear. He’s had some truly great orgasms where the aftershocks lasted a while, but being so out of it he didn’t even notice someone moving him and cleaning him up?

“D-d-don’t th-th-think so. C-c-could j-j-just b-be th-this though.” He fumbles a hand out from under the blanket and taps a finger against his temple. “St-t-tuff j-just g-g-gets too m-m-much t-to h-h-handle n-now. Kn-kn-knocks me out.” He shrugs. “Not g-g-gonna l-l-lie, it would-d-d b-be k-k-kinda sc-sc-scary if I w-w-were al-l-lone, b-but. ‘M not.”

Cas holds him tighter, and Dean listens to his heartbeat and watches the stars until he can’t keep his eyes open any longer.

He’s half asleep when Cas tucks him in and actually lies down with him, letting Dean curl into his side. “I love you,” he says, and then chuckles when Dean tries to say it back and it comes out as more gibberish than actual words. “Sleep,” Dean hears him say, so he does just that.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Dean’s actually awake at a reasonable hour the next morning, and he drags his whole family into the Waffle Spot for breakfast. His body still aches with exhaustion, but the memory of last night is enough to distract him from it. He can’t stop smiling, can barely keep his hands off Cas, pressed close to his side while he munches on his blueberry and banana nut waffles.

Conversation carries on mostly without him while he stuffs his face, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t notice how the strain has gone out of Sam and Eileen’s interactions, their smiles genuine as they actually meet each other’s eyes again. Seeing Sammy happy makes Dean even happier, which means it’s totally an accident when he flicks a blueberry into Sam’s hair.

Dean didn’t really have a plan for today except maybe making Cas try out the hot tub with him. The others seem good with just lazing around for another day, not exactly eager to cram themselves in the car for the long ride back. Dean knows he’s going to miss his room and his home soon, but this feels like the long-earned vacation he’d never actually believed they’d get. Sure, Ocean Beach ain’t Hawaii, but they should be able to find a nice enough spot.

None of them own swim trunks, so that means shopping trip. “I w-w-want one w-with a sh-sh-shark on it,” Dean says when they’re back in their room and he’s brushed his teeth for the second time today so Cas stops complaining about the lingering walnut taste he does not care for.

Cas huffs a breath of laughter and kisses Dean’s cheek.

“Of course, Bear.” Then he frowns as he seems to remember something. “I think Jack is on to us. When it was determined that we would not be going to SeaWorld because the animals are being exploited there, he said he was really happy that he at least saw that _bear_ on the hike. And then he _winked_ at me.”

Dean snorts, shaking his head and chuckling at the almost scandalized expression on Cas's face. Looks like the kid ain’t as oblivious as they’d thought.

“Well, he b-b-better k-keep it to himself, or I’mma stick his h-h-head in the sand-d-d.”

“You will do no such thing.”

“Oh, y-yeah?” Dean taunts, instantly shifting into playful. “Who’s g-g-gonna st-t-top me?”

The next thing he knows, he’s on his back on the bed where he woke up with Cas beside him this morning, but before he can complain about the sudden, definitely too big distance between them, Cas is closing it, and then nothing matters except the next kiss, and the next, and the one after.

>

Dean gets his shark swim trunks while Cas chooses plain black ones, and he thinks he’s going to be completely content just lying around in the dappled shade with Cas at his side and a couple of colds ones. He’s bubbly and stupid with being in love though, so the moment they find a quiet spot and he gets a good look at the ocean, he hears himself say, “Hey, C-Cas? _C-c-catch me_.”

And then he’s running across the sand, almost giddy when he hears Cas's follow. Just as he’s splashing into the turf, arms come up around him, and Dean’s laughing when they crash together into the waves. He’s still smiling when he resurfaces, wiping water from his eyes. Cas is frowning at the ocean he’s in almost grumpily, like for some reason he didn’t expect to get soaking wet when he fell headfirst into it.

Dean swims over to him, crossing the distance, and Cas's expression softens.

“Got you,” he says.

And he does.

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics at the beginning are from [Fleetwood Mac’s Crystal](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zdHh_D_b5xU)
> 
> Molly’s story was inspired by real life events, and the actual story of a homeless man in San Diego that I meant to link to here, but the video appears to have been taken down on youtube :/ if it reappears, I will add a link here! 
> 
> [This site](http://hikingsdcounty.com/el-cajon-mountain-el-cap/) helped me a great deal with mapping out the hike on El Cajon Mountain. Also there are, in fact, snakes on that mountain (rattlesnakes and California Kings, apparently). Dean was just lucky and didn’t see any :D 
> 
> If you enjoyed the story, it would mean a great deal to me if you could leave me a comment! I’m always happy to hear which parts of the story my readers enjoyed the most, but even a simple “Extra Kudos” will make my day! I would also ask you to please keep show or fandom wank out of the comment section, because I would like for this to be a positive and safe environment for everyone. Thank you!! 
> 
> I also want to urge you to please [visit Caro on tumblr](http://carolinasacco.tumblr.com/) and tell her how gorgeous the art is she created for the story, and/or [reblog her masterpost](http://carolinasacco.tumblr.com/post/180557213568/dcbb-2018-master-post) and tell her in the tags!! She worked so incredibly hard on her art, and I really wish for her to get the recognition she deserves. If for whatever reason you can’t do either, please leave a comment for her here and I will make sure she sees it!! Thank you!!
> 
> [Fic masterpost on tumblr](http://deancasbigbang.tumblr.com/post/180559188430/title-about-five-times-the-distance-author)


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